Customer Reviews

For Common Things: Irony, Trust, and Commitment in America Today

5 star:		(22)
4 star:		(21)
3 star:		(6)
2 star:		(9)
1 star:		(21)

 

 

for the paperback instead of letting media buzz influence my choice of reading matter. "For Common Things," a cycle of six long essays in book form, was engaging enough but not the "wowser" I thought it would be from all the hype it had gotten.

Essays nos. 1-3 and 6 are abstruse and interrelated, nos. 4 and 5 are more specific, dealing with environmental politics and genetic engineering. Purdy puts the blame on "irony" for most of our current ills. He can get away with this because he never defines irony and so it can mean almost anything bad--not just the tragedy of unintended consequences but cynicism, narcissism, despair, political apathy, that jaundiced feeling, hard-heartedness, and so on. He makes a pretty good case for giving up on all this irony and becoming more emotional, more risk-taking, even taking a chance on politics--but then, it has to be HIS type of politics, as we find out in chapters 4 and 5.

Purdy's prose style is so beautiful I had almost forgotten he is only 25 until he veered into "political correctness"--that and the fact he is forever reminding us of how interconnected the human species is (honestly, he does everything but quote John Donne's "No man is an island").

I wish I could have given "For Common Things" four stars and I would have if the argument had flowed a little more smoothly and if the author had been a little less self-absorbed. But he will undoubtedly mellow with age. Most of what I've seen written about him is unfair in the extreme: refusal to argue the merits of his book, shallow ad hominem attacks on his West Va. background and Ivy League education (some even want to pillory him for being a hick AND an East Coast snob--doubly unfair and doubly irrelevant). The book is worth reading, but don't push anyone out of the way to do so.

I have just finished the book and I have also read the reviews here on the website. I will concur with other Jed defenders here that I, too, am a bit taken aback by the somewhat less than civil tone employed by his detractors. But then again, these are the very reactions that Purdy is talking about when he says we are afraid to make our deepest hopes and desires publicly known for fear of trivialization by others. Yet he still earnestly writes this self-described "love letter", in hopes that others might feel their own earnest spirit calling from within. As he says in the preface, he hopes the book may cause another to say, "Yes, you are not alone in that". As a 25 year old myself, it was refreshing to see such a fresh perspective coming from my generation. Although I was always a Seinfeld fan, I am beginning to realize the damage an emotionally devoid, self-interested "That's a shame" response to things tickling our conscience is having on our relationships with each other and our earth. Although I do not consider myself an intellectual (I read the book with a Webster's Unabridged, looking up "Promethean" early was wise.) on Purdy's level, I still feel a strong connection to Jedediah's sense of hope, and perhaps to dispelling the prevailing general sense that the trajectory we are on, as a society and planet, is irreversible. I am grateful to Jedediah for putting his heart on public display, regardless of the slings and arrows he may bear for it. In a time when people seem to be retreating further and further away from the public domain, taking their best hopes and dreams with them, Purdy stands his ground there with his heart on his sleeve, for all to see.

Through Plato's pen, Socrates said that an "unexamined life is not worth living." Now through the earnest words of a recent Harvard graduate, a twenty-four-year-old examines our modern lives and offers us a prescription for what ails us. The ailment is irony, or more finely put, "ironic detachment." Its chief avatar is the television character Jerry Seinfeld, who moves in and out of relationships with all the enthusiasm of a jaded, I've-seen-it-all-and-could-care-less New Yorker, which, of course, he is. Written by Jedediah Purdy, For Common Things: Irony, Trust and Commitment in America Today targets an array of cultural arbiters who value cleverness over curiosity, style over substance, self-awareness over social immersion, and, above all, the private over the public. For his efforts, Purdy has reaped scornful reproaches from the very class of ironists he preemptively criticizes. As someone more than twice Purdy's age, I am both amazed and tinged with a bit of envy that a young creature of a West Virginia hollow could possess so much erudition, wisdom, and perspicacity. I dare say that most twenty-four-year-olds could not spell Montaigne let alone quote his magnificent expressions. But Purdy-drawing upon the writings of the 16th-century French essayist; the observations of Tocqueville (which serve as epigraphs in Purdy's book); the philosophies of Kant, Rousseau, and Hegel; the life and words of Wendell Berry; and the profound experiences of Adam Michnik, the brave Polish dissident who retained his integrity as his country succumbed to capitalist rot-urges us to reject ironic detachment in favor of a renewed commitment to the commonweal. Chief among his detractors is Roger D. Hodge, who offered a scathing indictment of Purdy's new book in the September issue of Harper's Magazine. Entitled "Thus Spoke Jedediah: The Distilled Wisdom of a Cornpone Prophet," Hodge, with impatient disdain, says that Purdy belongs to "a line of young Ivy-educated authors whose prose briefly quickened the hearts of the marketing executives who decide which titles will appear at the front of book catalogues, in Barnes & Noble display windows, and on the banner of the Amazon.com home page. And yet how utterly worthless are their books, stacked on remainder shelves in the basements of used-book stores soon after their publication, their notoriety worn thin, their authors' careers all but over." On the contrary, counters Walter Kirn in Time Magazine. "Purdy's book is a precocious diatribe against the sort of media-savvy detachment that passes for intelligence and maturity in the age of Letterman...It is not the accessible pop polemic some reviewers have made it out to be but an achingly ambitious manifesto from a very young man who happens to be, alarmingly often, eloquent beyond his years." Jedediah Purdy was raised on a farm and homeschooled by his parents, mostly his philosophy-trained mother. At the age of 14 he entered New Hampshire's prestigious Phillips Exeter Academy. From there he matriculated at Harvard, where he became "obsessed with ethics," quotes Time. Yet he returned to the family farm at every opportunity to directly experience "the mundane," which, as he reminds us in his book, comes from the Latin mundus-`the world.' He is now studying law and the environment at Yale. In his spare time, it would appear, he writes best-selling manifestoes. What are the "common things" he describes? Essentially they are three "ecologies"-moral, political, and environmental-which are inextricably linked and interdependent. Purdy sets these against our zealous, uncritical embrace of all things private, which, he says, connotes deprivation. He sharply rebukes management guru Tom Peters, who, in his most recent incarnation, champions "You.com," the self as marketed product. (Peters, like his weight, dramatically fluctuates. He used to praise "excellent" corporations for their respect for and involvement of employees. He embraced quality and systems, à la Deming and Juran. A couple of years ago, he recanted. He began to promote virtual companies like Sara Lee, which have a brand name, relatively few officers, a host of products made by others, and no loyalties. Today, Peters proclaims the individual über alles-you are but your résumé, which must constantly be marketed.) The magazines Wired and Fast Company promote greed and self-absorption, argues Purdy. Bill Clinton resorts to facile rhetoric in manipulating public opinion, yet delivers little. Worse, Purdy suggests, the President's hypocritical behavior exquisitely models ironic detachment, feeding the growing cynicism toward public institutions. Purdy, as you have gathered, is a self-proclaimed progressive, acutely concerned for the environment and anxious to improve society. Time writes that "his broader goal is to spur a resurgence in grass-roots public activism." But it's an activism steeped in reason, nurtured by the mundane, and profoundly compassionate. It is not "Promethean," he argues. Rather, it draws on our best public traditions and decides human nature in favor of Rousseau over Hobbes. We would surely profit from more young sages like Purdy and far fewer of what writer Calvin Trillin calls `Sabbath gasbags.' After all, there are very real problems out there that command our urgent attention.

* After hearing Purdy on NPR's Morning Edition, I could not resist the image of Ron Howard as Opie. The voice is pure and fresh and innocent. But the words reveal perceptive sagacity. Given his book's nasty reception by the ironists he abhors, Purdy may be deterred from writing another. However, I suspect that he will energetically pursue his overarching goals. And his splendid portfolio should provide this polymath with ample opportunity to make a difference in the world.

Like Jed Purdy, I am student who is looking for truth in the world. I think this book points in the right direction. While not the most consistently interesting book, it did spark a new energy in me. It reminded me of the Greek ideal of civic duty that every man should serve his country at one point in his life. The language can be overly intellectual, but when he needs to, Purdy can craft a fine sentence that gets to the point and envelopes the idea he is trying to convey. I know he needed a group of specific examples of irony, but it seemed a bit unfair to pick on the same examples, like Wired and Seinfeld, time and again.

Overall his message is right: words and ideas are great, but they need actions to back them up. While I was reading it I discovered the desire to do something I never thought I would, serve my country politically someday. I used to think politics was just a bunch of old men arguing. This book made me realize that it is actually of vital importance. The theme of commitment is paralleled by the notion that we all need to contribute to the common good during our lives. I'd like to that Jed Purdy for writing this book.

When I first saw this book, I was intriqued by the very straightforward writing of the author, and immediately related to his desire to see a simpler world that was not unnecessarily complicated by greed and insincerity. Seeing as this book was published right as the dot-com boom was at its crest, the digiterati of silicon valley (and elsewhere) seemed an easy target. I admit that I took a more than a little pleasure in seeing the fall of many of the dot-commers.

However, the book quickly languished in identifying the problems of modern society without giving any concrete alternatives to the society against which it railed. Jedediah seems to take great pains in telling us about his early life in West Virginia, but does nothing to enable us to translate his earlier experiences into modern society. In the end, this comes painfully close to becoming a "Things were better back in the good-old days" type of book.

Overall, I was disappointed, but not surprised. If all of the worlds ills could be dispelled just by writing about them, things would be much easier.

...but words are what Purdy excels at. Yet he is not limited to his extraordinarily deft touch with language. His concepts in For Common Things reach beyond the kind of psychobabble that usually passes for wisdom in this Spandex society -- agree with him or not, he is a thinker, someone Mark Twain would have gotten drunk with. I myself would like to raise a glass to this intelligent and incredibly gutsy young author. I found his book thought provoking, astonishing, and challenging -- never boring or superficial. He has one trait which distinguishes, and doubtless made his ascent possible: authenticity. Many will break their necks in their hasty attempt to degrade and minimize his work; for those like him, that is the price of being admitted to the pantheon of respected authors. Do not hesitate for an instant.

It is misguided to focus on the academic and family history of Jedediah Purdy when reviewing this book. It is also wrong to assign him any particular political position, as this book does not focus on partisan issues, but is rather a call to embrace what is common and good in all people, and can be thus interpreted from both liberal and conservative viewpoints. I found that the most important and relevant idea I took away from this book was Mr. Purdy's call to personal responsibility in your actions towards yourself, towards your neighbors and towards humanity as a whole. Most of the book focuses on how we as individuals and as a nation have become irresponsible and disillusioned, and discusses the reasons why this has happened. The center of his thought though, is personal responsibility. He asserts that by living responsibly, we become aware of the consequences of our actions, and will accordingly try to live in a way that does more good than harm to ourselves and our communities. Although his writing has many flaws, I thought that this idea was so interesting and so overlooked by other thinkers, that I would recommend this book to anyone.

While it may not be technically perfect, "For Common Things" does convey a perfection of sentiment. Purdy's analysis of the modern "Wired" culture is spot-on. One tell-tale sign of how close he strikes to the mark is the vehemence of his critics. The same people that have lauded Douglas Coupland for his candor have attacked Purdy for his false sentimentality. As a fan of both, it's only fair to acknowledge that they're saying the same thing. Both are essentially calling for the redemption of our culture. In Coupland's "Girlfriend in a Coma" that redemption means "kneeling in front of the automatic doors at Safeway". In "For Common Things" it means embracing sincerity. Coupland speaks from safe within the cultural idiom; Purdy from the exposed vantage point of philosophy, but they are messengers of the same truth.

Purdy's courage and insight are to be applauded. Of course I will wait anxiously for the development of his future as a writer, but for now I will savor his present as a thinker.

One has to wonder what the motivation behind critisims of this book, posted here, such as, "If you want the Truth, listen to Rush Limbaugh--the voice of America. Purdy is the voice of the liberal elite" , " I'm sick of Socialist slime like Purdy", "pious, over-privileged brat" , "Rousseau was an idiot. " , and "An Elitist Diatribe." I enjoyed the book very much, for many of the reasons listed by reviewers elsewhere, and felt somewhat validated by the intense negative reviews. I couldn't help thinking it was driven by an ignorant, anti-"Ivy league," bitterness against someone who, God-forbid, went to Harvard and Yale. One reviewer said as much, listing as a complaint against the author, simply "Jedediah has lived in dorms at Harvard and Yale."

Read the book. I made me a better person. What more can I say.

I went to Harvard with Jedediah Purdy, and although I did not know him very well, I was always impressed by his genuine niceness. In a school where cynicism ran rampant (and where I was/am one of its worst perpetrators), the genuine niceness of someone like Jedediah seemed like a breath of fresh air. By contrast, while reading through all of the reader reviews on this page, I was immediately struck by the mean-spiritedness of many of his critics. For sure, For Common Things is not a perfect book, and some parts of it may indeed be "naive". However, this should not blind us to both the book's and the author's many virtues.

All in all, I would say that For Common Things is a thoughtful book written by a young man who sees jarring incongruities between the small world he grew up with and the larger world he sees around him. However, as much as I might want it to be the contrary, the author's strategy of trying to generalize the moral lessons he acquired from his upbringing on a rural farm to the modern world of technology, multinational economics and on-demand media ultimately fails. As someone who has lived both on a farm in Oklahoma and consulted to major Fortune 500 companies on mergers and acquisitions, I can attest from personal experience that the farmer-philosopher life that author advocates in this book IS not necessarily the best life. There are certainly some agrarian values such as thrift and repect for sustainable development which are very noble, but there are also values in the business and high tech communities (which author seems to despise) which are just as noble ... e.g., analytical rigor, a bias toward action, a desire to truly make an impact on the world at large. The author may be right in believing that the world would be a terrible place if everyone thought and acted like Silicon Valley entrepreneurs, but the world would also be a terrible place if everyone thought and acted like philosopher-farmers as well. In short, we need both.

After reading the book, I have become convinced that it would have been far more successful if it were written more as a straight narrative, e.g., in the tradition of Henry Louis Gates' autobiography, than as a universal call to moral action. Just as immersed travel into a radically different foreign country allow people to see their own culture and customs in a much more enlightened perspective, an immersed journey into the childhood story of Jedediah Purdy could have helped many readers to see American popular culture from much richer perspective.

It is too bad that Jedediah decided to adopt a moralizing tone which distracts from the true value of his story. It is something we can all learn from, if only to understand how to become a nicer, less cynical person.