Okay, for all I know, maybe you are; what I know for a fact is that I’m not.
I’m trying to figure out why. Well, to be honest, I know why. I’m not disciplined, ambitious, or well-educated enough — and I’m not being all girlishly modest here, either. God knows, I’m remarkably disciplined, fiercely ambitious, and have degrees up the wazoo, but that isn’t enough: There was never a chance for me to be the SOMG. Part of me believes you have to be born to it, with three wise men and an ass nearby.
I was born to be comic relief.
What I also know for a fact is that I’m in the middle of writing a longish piece on this topic (tentatively, if not sensitively, titled “Why I’m Not the Scholar of My Generation and Why You Aren’t Either”) for The Common Review.
So, seriously, ARE you the SOYG? How come? Did you ever want to be? Do you know anyone who is — or who believes he or she is? C’mon:Tell the truth. David Lodge isn’t the only one with stories.
Do such creatures still roam the earth? Or are they extinct, like the dodo, the saber-toothed tiger, and the writer of intelligent yet marketable fiction?
