Status Anxiety
Where is the next generation of Toby Youngs? It’s my turn to dismiss their drivel
In 1988, Weidenfeld and Nicolson published a book called The Oxford Myth. Edited by Rachel Johnson and containing essays by a variety of precocious undergraduates, it was the worst reviewed book of the year. ‘A singularly worthless volume,’ wrote Niall Ferguson in the Times. ‘Routine and uninspired,’ said William Boyd in the Sunday Telegraph. As the author of the first essay — on the subject of Class — I was singled out for criticism by almost everyone. Andrew Davies, the celebrated adaptor of literary classics for television, said it made him want to puke.
At the time, we comforted ourselves with the thought that this was just part of the hazing process. Of course we were going to get up the noses of more established writers and critics — as Emile Durkheim pointed out, generational conflict is one of the defining characteristics of the modern age. All aspiring journalists had to go through this ritual before being admitted into the fraternity. In due course, if we were lucky, we would succeed to positions of power and then it would be our turn to pour scorn on those seeking to supplant us.
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