Pompous Ivy League Lit Kids Ruin it for the Rest of Us

by James Yu | August 8, 2008 at 4:53 pm

Have you ever wondered where all those self-styled intellectuals – pale faced, with their hair swept to the side – end up when they are cast out of their ivory towers? Some of them, undoubtedly the more masochistic ones, come crawling back as graduate students. And they are looked upon – often unfairly – by undergrads with a mix of fear and derision. The others, the meaner and richer ones, end up in New York, where they live off their trust funds and fancy themselves members of the literary aristocracy.

A few weeks ago the Daily Intelligencer picked up on a disenchanted blog post by Jessica Roy, an NYU student who had finally made her way into such circles one night only to find that it was populated by a cadre of pretentious and sycophantic Ivy Leaguers. The Daily Intel solicited a more thorough explanation from Roy:

A part of me longed to be absorbed into that elite circle of Ivy-educated literature nuts who have co-opted what it means to be a writer in New York. Because these days, if you’re not with them, you’re being mocked by them. I have thin skin, so I figured the former would be my best bet.

More unsettling dirt on your former classmates after the jump.
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