Join Me to Talk about an Incredible Book

I was recently chatting with an old friend of mine about what comes next. Her academic department—in the humanities—will be officially closed at the end of this year, and all of the faculty members will be fired or reassigned to administrative positions. Having left academia partially by choice (I don’t want to move; I want to be rooted somewhere after spending nearly half of my life bopping around, and my family and I like where we are, so I’m unwilling to apply to positions at other institutions), and partially because my contingent contract (the third I had at the institution where I worked for five years) was up, and the dean chose not to keep me on in a permanent position, I have also had time to reflect on my time in academia, as well as the state of academia now.

While academia is certainly not the only place knowledge is transmitted and produced (in fact, I believe that the entrenched belief among some within the institution have that knowledge is and can only be synonymous with academia is one reason why it’s failing), it is still one of the few spaces we have to explore ideas, engage in so-called “thought experiments,” challenge our worldviews, and push ourselves out of our comfort zones. At the very least, it’s one of the few structured and dedicated spaces for doing these things.

But it’s breaking and broken, especially in the U.S.: the average cost of in-state tuition for a student attending a four-year college in the U.S. in 2025 is $108,584 over 4 years; 2/3 of faculty are in contingent positions, meaning they are not on the tenure-track nor will they have tenure in the future; and, universities like WVU have closed their foreign language programs; more closures are coming.

The costs are too high, faculty life is unsustainable, and administrations are systematically removing the humanities from their curricula, because that’s not where the money is.

So, my friend and I were talking about what comes next: what would it look like if we, like many others I’m sure, created something else? What would it look like if we began to rethink—and thought with others who have already been doing this work—what educational spaces looked like? What if anyone could join in, not just people who could afford it?

I recently read Babel, or the Necessity of Violence by R. F. Kuang, and I cannot stop thinking about it. It’s about all of this—access to and gatekeeping of knowledge, the value and devaluing of the humanities, the relationship between academia and capitalism and imperialism, and what we can (and ultimately must) do to change the course of history.

It’s about so much more, but I don’t want to ruin it for you.

With the hope that we can begin to build something new, I thought we could read this book together and meet to discuss it. I want to take the best elements of a book club—connecting with people, being in community—with the best elements of a humanities course—deep conversation about big topics, guided discussions, playing with language, and experimenting with ideas—in a conversation about this book that’s open to EVERYONE.

There are no prerequisites. The only expectation is that you read or listen to the book.

Please join me on Saturday, April 26 from 12-2pm EST to discuss Babel, or the Necessity of Violence by R. F. Kuang. I will organize a fun and thought-provoking session that’s a bit more intensive than a book club, and accessible and welcoming to all. Come as you are—there’s no pressure here: you don’t have to be a literary person, or a bookworm; you don’t have to have a college degree or have excelled in high school English; you don’t have to be a native English speaker; you don’t have to be extroverted, nor will you have to say anything if you don’t want to. This space is truly for everyone. There is no judgment here.

The book is available at many libraries for free. If you purchase the book, consider supporting your local bookstore! (I also HIGHLY recommend the audiobook, if that’s your thing.)

A $5.00 donation is appreciated to help me set aside some work time to prepare thoroughly for organizing and leading our conversation, but it is by no means required to join in. Again, and I cannot stress this enough: everyone is welcome; we will meet with 3 people or 300 (that would be wild, but we’d make it work). This is my small effort to make the humanities more open to all.

And, maybe, it can be the beginning of something new.