Academostars Are the Symptom; What's the Disease?

Sharon O'Dair Academostars Are the Symptom; What's the Disease? Given the focus of this issue of the minnesota review, you may be surprised to discover that "there are no superstars in the humanities" (279). Of course, Cary Nelson and Stephen Watt1 do not mean this literally. They mean this comparatively: compared to stars outside the academy, in sports or in the movies, but also compared to stars in other academic fields, especially those who work in professional schools and whose salaries may dwarf even that of a university's football coach. Compared to these, say Nelson and Watt, there are no superstars in the humanities. Compared to the physician pulling down two million dollars, the Shakespearean making a hundred and fifty thousand might as well be, well, an adjunct. It's difficult for me to accept this argument, and I'll confess that my difficulty has mostly to do with my not being a star, or even a near-star. If I were, I imagine I would be more likely to find appealing the entry for "Superstars" in Academic Keywords—which, at twenty pages, is one of the two longest entries in the volume, and in which Nelson and Watt appear to explain away, rather than explain, stardom in the humanities. I would find it appealing to compare my salary unfavorably with those of academostars in law or medicine or business. And I would find it compelling to stress that the problem isn't stardom per se but "fake" or "faux" stardom, which we can solve not by examining the structural bases for stardom, as if true and fake stardom in our profession are not structurally equivalent or related, but by changing our attitudes: the solution is "not to stop rewarding people for genuine accomplishments but to stop rewarding them prematurely and to call unacceptable superstar behavior by its true name" (276-77). While Nelson and Watt do not settle what that true name might be—may I suggest "conduct unbecoming an irritating piece of shit"?—they do remind me here of David Shumway, who in proposing a solution to the problem of stars, also calls for individuals to stop behaving in certain bad ways (98). We must undergo a change of heart. We must change our attitudes and stop being fans. Just say no to academostars. Or as Nelson and Watt would have it, just say no to faux academostars. Endorsing "real superstardom" in the humanities, along with the "annual salary of $150,000 or more" that such status generates (268), Nelson and Watt also manage to make such a salary seem like small potatoes, nothing to worry about, of no effect at all on academic budgets or academic life. It is only when salaries reach over $200,000 that they "begin to worry about the real and symbolic rela- 160 the minnesota review non to salaries at the other end of the spectrum" (278). As Bruce Robbins puts it, academostars in the humanities are a tiny and unrepresentative group; they are scapegoats (12). Stars or near-stars may indeed find such analyses comforting: stars are scapegoats; $150K is appropriate salary for a non-fake superstar , although $200K may be a bit worrisome; and in this scheme, given these definitions, a salary in the low six figures, like Nelson's own, is just about perfect (Nelson and Watt 266). Less clear is why a reader who is not a star should accept their statements as anything other than mainly self-interested. One reason, as Shumway might say, is that non-stars are used to accepting the authority ofstars (98). And another reason, as Terry Caesar might say, is that non-stars are unable to talk about stardom in journals that count or are visible (461). With me, however, you can be certain that a non-star is talking about stardom and the state ofour profession: I have never received an honorarium of $2,000—or of any amount—to lecture before an academic audience (cf. Nelson and Watt 264 n.2). As for a six figure salary, I'm quite certain I'll never make that orbit of stardom, although I'll confess to holding, despite all...