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Annapolis Autumn: Life, Death, and Literature at the U.S. Naval Academy
What really goes on behind the wall that surrounds the United States Naval Academy in Annapolis? What are all those midshipmen, future officers in the U.S. Naval and Marine Corps and leaders of our society, thinking as they stand in neat ranks at the parades beloved by tourists? What are their professors actually educating them to do.
In "Annapolis Autumn, " Bruce Fleming, professor of English for nearly two decades at the academy and a prizewinning author, captures the sights, sounds, colors, and conversations of this tradition-steeped institution.
In other classes, the cadets learn how to assemble guns, control armored vehicles, man battleships, and kill other human beings. Nothing is ever less than ?outstanding, sir!OCO In English class, however, Fleming introduces his students to nuance and subtext, to the gay poets of World War I, and to the idea that not every piece of literature is designed to be ?motivational.OCO Sharing stories from his twenty years at the academy, Fleming explores questions about teaching, the labels ?liberalOCO and ?conservative, OCO and the ultimate purpose of higher educationOCoissues made all the more gripping at a time when many of his students will graduate from the classroom to the battlefield."
In "Annapolis Autumn, " Bruce Fleming, professor of English for nearly two decades at the academy and a prizewinning author, captures the sights, sounds, colors, and conversations of this tradition-steeped institution.
In other classes, the cadets learn how to assemble guns, control armored vehicles, man battleships, and kill other human beings. Nothing is ever less than ?outstanding, sir!OCO In English class, however, Fleming introduces his students to nuance and subtext, to the gay poets of World War I, and to the idea that not every piece of literature is designed to be ?motivational.OCO Sharing stories from his twenty years at the academy, Fleming explores questions about teaching, the labels ?liberalOCO and ?conservative, OCO and the ultimate purpose of higher educationOCoissues made all the more gripping at a time when many of his students will graduate from the classroom to the battlefield."
237 pages, Kindle Edition
First published September 1, 2005
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September 22, 2025
Annapolis is, for me, the most beautiful and elegant of all the American state capitals. (But then, I'm from Maryland, so I *would* say that.) Yet even if you prefer the capital of your own state (a sentiment that I would certainly understand), we can agree that Annapolis is the only state capital that is also home to a major service academy for the United States military. Against Annapolis' placid colonial façade, its perfect location at the point where the Severn River meets Chesapeake Bay, the future officers of the U.S. Navy and Marine Corps learn about past wars, and prepare for future ones.
Bruce Fleming, a professor of English at the United States Naval Academy, is acutely conscious of the paradoxes inherent in his position as a liberal-arts educator at a military college; he describes “A Day in the Life of a Civilian Professor” at U.S.N.A. by pointing out that “We neither salute nor are saluted, cannot use the PX (Post Exchange) on the other side of the [Severn] River (only recently have we had access to the bookstore on a regular basis), are not covered by military insurance or retirement, and have our own pay system” (p. 103).
His book Annapolis Autumn is rich in reflections on the paradoxes he regularly faces, as in a chapter that is appropriately titled "Athens vs. Sparta." Annapolis is, after all, the kind of school where a second-year summer trip is not a quick culture-gathering jaunt to England or France, but rather a cruise on an active, serving armed vessel of the United States Navy. Fleming participates in this ritual one time, with a two-day cruise on a U.S. Navy submarine. He looks back on his two days in the Silent Service by stating that “I discover, not for the first time, that the idea of being the servant of a great machine is strange to me” (p. 201).
Fleming also takes on issues like "don't ask, don't tell" that were areas of much discussion within military culture at the time of the book's publication in 2005. That policy, like other modern changes at Annapolis, did not receive universal acceptance at the tradition-minded Naval Academy; the Academy did not begin admitting women students until 1979, and Fleming shares the testimony of a male student who told Fleming, “Sir…I don’t tell this to everybody. But I don’t think women should be at the Naval Academy. It’s a male thing. It’s the brotherhood. I’d die for the guys in my company. We share everything” (p. 151). Fleming sees this midshipman’s words as an example of the “overwhelming infatuation with Maleness” (p. 150) that is an integral part of Naval Academy culture.
Considering that the book's subtitle is Life, Death, and Literature at the U.S. Naval Academy, it should be no surprise that some of the book's most moving passages include Fleming's reflections on how the students he teaches -- in so many ways, college kids like those one might encounter on campus at Johns Hopkins or the University of Maryland -- may someday go into battle and give their lives for the United States of America. Returning to this book now, years after its original 2005 publication, I found myself wondering: how many of the students that Fleming taught ended up in Iraq or Afghanistan, suffered wounds there, died there?
Yet his book is not all weighty discussion of battleship-heavy issues. Fleming provides engaging descriptions of the lighter rituals that are part of Annapolis life: for example, the "Herndon climb," when first-year students, or "plebes," assemble to climb a greased monument and remove the "plebe" cap or “dixie cup” atop the monument, a cap that emphasizes the "plebe's" lowly status at the Academy. Once an upperclassman's cap takes the place of the "plebe" cap, the "plebes" are full-fledged midshipmen, free from the constant run of harassment and petty humiliation that "plebes" face throughout their first year at Annapolis.
Fleming has great fun describing this well-known Naval Academy ritual, wherein the plebes “bunch around the monument’s base and and, for the next several hours, surge, pile, and make futile efforts to reach the top. During this time they step on each other’s faces and shoulders in their efforts to pile high enough that one person…can reach up and remove the dixie cup before replacing it with an upperclassman’s cap” (pp. 50-51).
Annapolitans will also enjoy the description of another beloved Naval Academy ritual – the annual croquet match against nearby Saint John’s College, another Annapolis institution that is one of the best liberal-arts colleges in the U.S.A. The gentry of Anne Arundel County, with aristocratic credentials that go all the way back to the founding of the Maryland colony in 1634, turn out in their finest haute couture to look on as the spit-and-polish midshipmen of the Naval Academy play croquet against the decidedly non-military students of Saint John’s. In case you were wondering, Saint John’s usually wins.
One senses, throughout Annapolis Autumn, a tension between Fleming’s liberal-arts outlook – one centered around the individual's development of an independent critical-thinking sensibility – and the Naval Academy’s focus on tradition, ritual, and following orders. This conflict comes to the fore when Fleming concludes that a senior-level student who has been repeatedly coming to Fleming for “E.I.” (Extra Instruction) may have Asperger’s syndrome or some other autism-spectrum disorder. Fleming goes to his department chair, “who calls admissions. They assure her stiffly that we do not admit people with learning disabilities. Therefore, this young man cannot have such disabilities” (p. 252). This Kafka-esque scenario embodies much of what Fleming seems to find frustrating about working with the Naval Academy bureaucracy.
That frustration may have been, on some level, mutual – as Fleming eventually became involved in protracted litigation with the Naval Academy. Readers interested in the story of those proceedings can seek out the coverage of that dispute in Annapolis’ newspaper of record, The Capital – or in the Baltimore Sun or the Washington Post or the Navy Times. For my part, I will restrict myself to appreciating the manner in which Fleming’s ambivalent attitude toward the Naval Academy where he has taught for decades makes Annapolis Autumn a most interesting literary voyage.
Bruce Fleming, a professor of English at the United States Naval Academy, is acutely conscious of the paradoxes inherent in his position as a liberal-arts educator at a military college; he describes “A Day in the Life of a Civilian Professor” at U.S.N.A. by pointing out that “We neither salute nor are saluted, cannot use the PX (Post Exchange) on the other side of the [Severn] River (only recently have we had access to the bookstore on a regular basis), are not covered by military insurance or retirement, and have our own pay system” (p. 103).
His book Annapolis Autumn is rich in reflections on the paradoxes he regularly faces, as in a chapter that is appropriately titled "Athens vs. Sparta." Annapolis is, after all, the kind of school where a second-year summer trip is not a quick culture-gathering jaunt to England or France, but rather a cruise on an active, serving armed vessel of the United States Navy. Fleming participates in this ritual one time, with a two-day cruise on a U.S. Navy submarine. He looks back on his two days in the Silent Service by stating that “I discover, not for the first time, that the idea of being the servant of a great machine is strange to me” (p. 201).
Fleming also takes on issues like "don't ask, don't tell" that were areas of much discussion within military culture at the time of the book's publication in 2005. That policy, like other modern changes at Annapolis, did not receive universal acceptance at the tradition-minded Naval Academy; the Academy did not begin admitting women students until 1979, and Fleming shares the testimony of a male student who told Fleming, “Sir…I don’t tell this to everybody. But I don’t think women should be at the Naval Academy. It’s a male thing. It’s the brotherhood. I’d die for the guys in my company. We share everything” (p. 151). Fleming sees this midshipman’s words as an example of the “overwhelming infatuation with Maleness” (p. 150) that is an integral part of Naval Academy culture.
Considering that the book's subtitle is Life, Death, and Literature at the U.S. Naval Academy, it should be no surprise that some of the book's most moving passages include Fleming's reflections on how the students he teaches -- in so many ways, college kids like those one might encounter on campus at Johns Hopkins or the University of Maryland -- may someday go into battle and give their lives for the United States of America. Returning to this book now, years after its original 2005 publication, I found myself wondering: how many of the students that Fleming taught ended up in Iraq or Afghanistan, suffered wounds there, died there?
Yet his book is not all weighty discussion of battleship-heavy issues. Fleming provides engaging descriptions of the lighter rituals that are part of Annapolis life: for example, the "Herndon climb," when first-year students, or "plebes," assemble to climb a greased monument and remove the "plebe" cap or “dixie cup” atop the monument, a cap that emphasizes the "plebe's" lowly status at the Academy. Once an upperclassman's cap takes the place of the "plebe" cap, the "plebes" are full-fledged midshipmen, free from the constant run of harassment and petty humiliation that "plebes" face throughout their first year at Annapolis.
Fleming has great fun describing this well-known Naval Academy ritual, wherein the plebes “bunch around the monument’s base and and, for the next several hours, surge, pile, and make futile efforts to reach the top. During this time they step on each other’s faces and shoulders in their efforts to pile high enough that one person…can reach up and remove the dixie cup before replacing it with an upperclassman’s cap” (pp. 50-51).
Annapolitans will also enjoy the description of another beloved Naval Academy ritual – the annual croquet match against nearby Saint John’s College, another Annapolis institution that is one of the best liberal-arts colleges in the U.S.A. The gentry of Anne Arundel County, with aristocratic credentials that go all the way back to the founding of the Maryland colony in 1634, turn out in their finest haute couture to look on as the spit-and-polish midshipmen of the Naval Academy play croquet against the decidedly non-military students of Saint John’s. In case you were wondering, Saint John’s usually wins.
One senses, throughout Annapolis Autumn, a tension between Fleming’s liberal-arts outlook – one centered around the individual's development of an independent critical-thinking sensibility – and the Naval Academy’s focus on tradition, ritual, and following orders. This conflict comes to the fore when Fleming concludes that a senior-level student who has been repeatedly coming to Fleming for “E.I.” (Extra Instruction) may have Asperger’s syndrome or some other autism-spectrum disorder. Fleming goes to his department chair, “who calls admissions. They assure her stiffly that we do not admit people with learning disabilities. Therefore, this young man cannot have such disabilities” (p. 252). This Kafka-esque scenario embodies much of what Fleming seems to find frustrating about working with the Naval Academy bureaucracy.
That frustration may have been, on some level, mutual – as Fleming eventually became involved in protracted litigation with the Naval Academy. Readers interested in the story of those proceedings can seek out the coverage of that dispute in Annapolis’ newspaper of record, The Capital – or in the Baltimore Sun or the Washington Post or the Navy Times. For my part, I will restrict myself to appreciating the manner in which Fleming’s ambivalent attitude toward the Naval Academy where he has taught for decades makes Annapolis Autumn a most interesting literary voyage.
May 15, 2023
I read Bruce Fleming's Annapolis Autumn several years ago. For some reason I have hesitated to review it. I am still not sure what I think of it. My years were just as Vet Nam was ending. My class was known as the last of the Flower Children. So before Flemming. One of my favorite classes was an English course I had taught by a Navy Lieutenant. I hasten to add the much of the Academy has changed since then , and for all the "When I was a plebe" traditional braggadocio, I am not positive I would have graduated in a more recent year.
Professor Flemming had a unique position, that of an insider, with full access, but being non military. He has first person credibility and mostly speaks if not entirely objectively, is honest about his point of view. Sometimes I think he was projecting rather than listening. As midshipmen (NEVER cadets!) we know there is a chance we may serve in battle. It may have been that, we rarely had an open from the heart discussion that that included killing people. And on that topic, the Navy Marine Corps Team has been sending junior officers int battle for the last 20 years, leading me to suspect that today's USNA is a lot more time given to promoting both open discussion and personal introspection of every aspect of killing, and being killed. Now and then, we were routinely reminded that our decisions could effect lives in many ways.
Even a junior officer can say, write or order things that can change the lives of our subordinates. Maybe not life or death, but how they will fair as service people, adults with families or into their lives as civilians. Over use or misuse of such authority as even an ensign or Marine 2nd louie has consequences. For example at one point it was on me to act as a board of review over the decisions of a retiring Warrant Officer. I could have written it in such a way as to make his retirement easier or more difficult. There was no issue of his being a criminal, but just how well did he handle a particular situation. All nuance .
Once commissioned, any officer may have to make decisions with life or death consequences. As an engineering officer, I did not need to be in battle to carry an awareness that live steam is dangerous. Likewise young officers deciding about things as varied as how hard to work his platoon, to overseeing safety procedures during underway replenishment. That young Academy graduate must maintain situational awareness.
The Academy is as about this kind of thinking as much or more than about the heat of battle. I am not sure that Professor Flemming considers these nuances of military training, service academy or boot camp.
All that said, there is value to the perspective in Annapolis Autumn. I wish his publisher had been The Naval Institute. It may have compromised his standing as an outsider, but it would have meant that the Navy was officially open to other than an official point of view.
Professor Flemming had a unique position, that of an insider, with full access, but being non military. He has first person credibility and mostly speaks if not entirely objectively, is honest about his point of view. Sometimes I think he was projecting rather than listening. As midshipmen (NEVER cadets!) we know there is a chance we may serve in battle. It may have been that, we rarely had an open from the heart discussion that that included killing people. And on that topic, the Navy Marine Corps Team has been sending junior officers int battle for the last 20 years, leading me to suspect that today's USNA is a lot more time given to promoting both open discussion and personal introspection of every aspect of killing, and being killed. Now and then, we were routinely reminded that our decisions could effect lives in many ways.
Even a junior officer can say, write or order things that can change the lives of our subordinates. Maybe not life or death, but how they will fair as service people, adults with families or into their lives as civilians. Over use or misuse of such authority as even an ensign or Marine 2nd louie has consequences. For example at one point it was on me to act as a board of review over the decisions of a retiring Warrant Officer. I could have written it in such a way as to make his retirement easier or more difficult. There was no issue of his being a criminal, but just how well did he handle a particular situation. All nuance .
Once commissioned, any officer may have to make decisions with life or death consequences. As an engineering officer, I did not need to be in battle to carry an awareness that live steam is dangerous. Likewise young officers deciding about things as varied as how hard to work his platoon, to overseeing safety procedures during underway replenishment. That young Academy graduate must maintain situational awareness.
The Academy is as about this kind of thinking as much or more than about the heat of battle. I am not sure that Professor Flemming considers these nuances of military training, service academy or boot camp.
All that said, there is value to the perspective in Annapolis Autumn. I wish his publisher had been The Naval Institute. It may have compromised his standing as an outsider, but it would have meant that the Navy was officially open to other than an official point of view.
September 28, 2024
I served as a Navy officer, so obviously had close interactions with Academy grads. This book explained something that I noticed at the time, and has bothered me ever since. Almost all the jerks I served with were Academy grads. (Please note, I am NOT saying all Academy grads are jerks. I am saying that if an officer was a jerk, chances are very good that person graduated from Annapolis. That is an opinion shared by a lot of non-USNA grads I know.) Reading this book gave me a perspective on why Academy grads act the way they do - they are trained from Indoc Day to believe they are better. Better than those who "put on their uniform once a week for NROTC," and much better than the "90-day wonders" from OCS. I cannot say I agree with that sentiment (I don't), but knowing the cause clears the confusion I've felt.
In terms of the book itself, it is very well written. The author is an outsider on the inside - a lifelong civilian teaching at the USNA for a couple of decades. His perspective is fascinating, because he IS an outsider. He isn't part of the hivemind (my word, not his) that permeates the military. This includes his disagreements with the administration (when he published an editorial in the Washington Post, and when he tried to get two midshipmen seen by mental health professionals because he believed one had bipolar disorder - it was later discovered the middie did - and another was a high-functioning autistic). His interaction with the mids is also a look into the mind of a middie, who views English as a necessary by annoying requirement. (This goes back to my first paragraph and the idea that people go to Annapolis to be warriors and everything else is secondary.)
Overall, I loved this book. I wish there was more.
In terms of the book itself, it is very well written. The author is an outsider on the inside - a lifelong civilian teaching at the USNA for a couple of decades. His perspective is fascinating, because he IS an outsider. He isn't part of the hivemind (my word, not his) that permeates the military. This includes his disagreements with the administration (when he published an editorial in the Washington Post, and when he tried to get two midshipmen seen by mental health professionals because he believed one had bipolar disorder - it was later discovered the middie did - and another was a high-functioning autistic). His interaction with the mids is also a look into the mind of a middie, who views English as a necessary by annoying requirement. (This goes back to my first paragraph and the idea that people go to Annapolis to be warriors and everything else is secondary.)
Overall, I loved this book. I wish there was more.
August 3, 2019
Dichotomy
I liked this book even being a conservative. The author is from my views in the other camp but does pay respect to the men and women attending. I agree with some of his thoughts and disagree with others.
I’m reading this from the life experience of spending 20 years on US Submarines as a Chief. I trained the Ensigns as they come on board or during their Midshipmen years in the summer. I’ve seen ROTC types, OCS types etc. they are all the same. Good and bad.
My son is also reading this book as he’s in preparation for attending the academy next year.
To read books of the viewpoints you agree with only leaves a wealth of information untouched out there. For that I thank Bruce for giving me an alternate viewpoint and for causing me to think and experience a view I would never have imagined.
I would encourage Bruce to take time and meet the parents of the kids going there. I believe some of the issues he’s seen is as a result the parenting they have received. I would say a majority of the midshipmen are good and will make fine officers. And as in any environment there are good and bad. But the ones who can’t launder, cook etc that Bruce pegs on all grads is just a small minority. Again just my opinion. The officers come to work sharp in the fleet and on the nights they cook for the crew, either on the boat or at parties at their house, they do a wonderful job. Quite the contrast presented.
One last thought I’ll share is the difference between “Allowed and Prudent”. Just because something is allowed it’s not always prudent to do so.
I liked this book even being a conservative. The author is from my views in the other camp but does pay respect to the men and women attending. I agree with some of his thoughts and disagree with others.
I’m reading this from the life experience of spending 20 years on US Submarines as a Chief. I trained the Ensigns as they come on board or during their Midshipmen years in the summer. I’ve seen ROTC types, OCS types etc. they are all the same. Good and bad.
My son is also reading this book as he’s in preparation for attending the academy next year.
To read books of the viewpoints you agree with only leaves a wealth of information untouched out there. For that I thank Bruce for giving me an alternate viewpoint and for causing me to think and experience a view I would never have imagined.
I would encourage Bruce to take time and meet the parents of the kids going there. I believe some of the issues he’s seen is as a result the parenting they have received. I would say a majority of the midshipmen are good and will make fine officers. And as in any environment there are good and bad. But the ones who can’t launder, cook etc that Bruce pegs on all grads is just a small minority. Again just my opinion. The officers come to work sharp in the fleet and on the nights they cook for the crew, either on the boat or at parties at their house, they do a wonderful job. Quite the contrast presented.
One last thought I’ll share is the difference between “Allowed and Prudent”. Just because something is allowed it’s not always prudent to do so.
August 23, 2017
Bruce Fleming does a better job analyzing the cadet experience that many other works I’ve encountered. Many readers should absorb this work with an open mind. As a Navy veteran (not Annapolis grad), I hold strong opinions about our military, it’s training, and how we prepare leaders through our military academies. I simply learned a lot through this little book of vignettes and came away even more hopeful for those fortunate enough to attend the USNA. – Darren Sapp, author, Fire on the Flight Deck.
March 22, 2017
Good
Very entertaining and a pretty quick read. Very entertaining - not knowing anything about academy life - it's pretty informative. Interesting assessment from a civilian.
Very entertaining and a pretty quick read. Very entertaining - not knowing anything about academy life - it's pretty informative. Interesting assessment from a civilian.
November 2, 2012
Annapolis is, for me, the most beautiful and elegant of all the American state capitals. (But then, I'm from Maryland, so I would say that.) Yet even if you prefer the capital of your own state (a sentiment that I would certainly understand), we can agree that Annapolis is the only state capital that is also home to a major service academy for the United States military. Against Annapolis' placid colonial facade, its perfect location at the point where the Severn River meets Chesapeake Bay, the future officers of the U.S. Navy and Marine Corps learn about past wars, and prepare for future ones.
Bruce Fleming, who teaches English at the United States Naval Academy, is acutely conscious of the paradoxes inherent in his position as a liberal-arts educator at a military college; and his book Annapolis Autumn is rich in reflections on those paradoxes, as in a chapter that is appropriately titled "Athens vs. Sparta." Fleming takes on issues like "don't ask, don't tell" that were areas of much discussion within military culture at the time of the book's publication in 2005.
Considering that the book's subtitle is Life, Death, and Literature at the U.S. Naval Academy, it should be no surprise that some of the book's most moving passages include Fleming's reflections on how the students he teaches -- in so many ways, college kids like those one might encounter on campus at Johns Hopkins or the University of Maryland -- may someday go into battle and give their lives for the United States of America. Returning to this book now, seven years after its publication, I found myself wondering: how many of the students that Fleming taught ended up in Iraq or Afghanistan, suffered wounds there, died there?
Yet his book is not all weighty discussion of battleship-heavy issues. Fleming provides engaging descriptions of the lighter rituals that are part of Annapolis life: the "Herndon climb" (when first-year students, or "plebes," assemble to climb a greased monument and replace a "plebe" cap placed atop the monument with an upperclassman's cap); the annual croquet match wherein the Midshipmen take on the distinctly non-military liberal-arts students of nearby Saint John's College (St. John's usually wins).
The book is not perfect. Some of Fleming's reflections on his personal life at the time made me sorry to hear of his troubles; but at the same time, while reading such passages I found myself wishing that he would return to his true subject -- the U.S. Naval Academy and its unique student culture. For the reader who wants an insider-outsider's look at that culture, Annapolis Autumn makes for an interesting and thought-provoking literary voyage.
Bruce Fleming, who teaches English at the United States Naval Academy, is acutely conscious of the paradoxes inherent in his position as a liberal-arts educator at a military college; and his book Annapolis Autumn is rich in reflections on those paradoxes, as in a chapter that is appropriately titled "Athens vs. Sparta." Fleming takes on issues like "don't ask, don't tell" that were areas of much discussion within military culture at the time of the book's publication in 2005.
Considering that the book's subtitle is Life, Death, and Literature at the U.S. Naval Academy, it should be no surprise that some of the book's most moving passages include Fleming's reflections on how the students he teaches -- in so many ways, college kids like those one might encounter on campus at Johns Hopkins or the University of Maryland -- may someday go into battle and give their lives for the United States of America. Returning to this book now, seven years after its publication, I found myself wondering: how many of the students that Fleming taught ended up in Iraq or Afghanistan, suffered wounds there, died there?
Yet his book is not all weighty discussion of battleship-heavy issues. Fleming provides engaging descriptions of the lighter rituals that are part of Annapolis life: the "Herndon climb" (when first-year students, or "plebes," assemble to climb a greased monument and replace a "plebe" cap placed atop the monument with an upperclassman's cap); the annual croquet match wherein the Midshipmen take on the distinctly non-military liberal-arts students of nearby Saint John's College (St. John's usually wins).
The book is not perfect. Some of Fleming's reflections on his personal life at the time made me sorry to hear of his troubles; but at the same time, while reading such passages I found myself wishing that he would return to his true subject -- the U.S. Naval Academy and its unique student culture. For the reader who wants an insider-outsider's look at that culture, Annapolis Autumn makes for an interesting and thought-provoking literary voyage.
June 7, 2016
This book was partly what I expected (an outsider’s perspective on the Naval Academy) and partly not (the author’s more philosophical musings on the purpose of college education more generally, literature, etc. Perhaps unsurprisingly, I found the former more interesting than the latter, particularly when addressing the questions of how the Navy should evolve (or not) alongside society, and particularly, its admissions policies.
The Navy shepherds former enlisted men and women, minorities, and recruited athletes in the door with much lower standards and scrutiny, while also maintaining a strong pretense about how competitive its admissions process is. As the author notes, these preferences are no different than at civilian colleges, but the costs of admitting someone unqualified are obviously much higher at the Naval Academy. In the case of enlisted soldiers and minorities, this may be worth it, in terms of troop morale, but the case for athletes is much weaker—given the strong leadership qualities, and fitness and athletic background, of the other Navy applicants. The author makes a compelling case for ending this practice, and for its harm on the Navy at present. He similarly points out that the Navy’s doctrinaire view of the import of hard work, relative to all other qualities, also is quite harmful at times—especially in the case of psychiatric disorders, many of which are willfully undiagnosed.
Coming from an English professor, the book is obviously well written, but still easy to read. It just ultimately spent a little less time than I had hoped on the topics I find most interesting.
The Navy shepherds former enlisted men and women, minorities, and recruited athletes in the door with much lower standards and scrutiny, while also maintaining a strong pretense about how competitive its admissions process is. As the author notes, these preferences are no different than at civilian colleges, but the costs of admitting someone unqualified are obviously much higher at the Naval Academy. In the case of enlisted soldiers and minorities, this may be worth it, in terms of troop morale, but the case for athletes is much weaker—given the strong leadership qualities, and fitness and athletic background, of the other Navy applicants. The author makes a compelling case for ending this practice, and for its harm on the Navy at present. He similarly points out that the Navy’s doctrinaire view of the import of hard work, relative to all other qualities, also is quite harmful at times—especially in the case of psychiatric disorders, many of which are willfully undiagnosed.
Coming from an English professor, the book is obviously well written, but still easy to read. It just ultimately spent a little less time than I had hoped on the topics I find most interesting.
January 18, 2010
n the tradition of Dead Poets Society, an English professor recounts the unique challenges of teaching liberal arts at one of America's premier military schools
"If it's a choice between a gay man with a rifle between me and the enemy or nobody at all, I'd rather have the gay man."—A student's response upon learning that the World War I poet Wilfred Owen was probably gay
What really goes on behind the wall that surrounds the United States Naval Academy in Annapolis? What are all those midshipmen, future officers in the U.S. Naval and Marine Corps and leaders of our society, thinking as they stand in neat ranks at the parades beloved by tourists? What are their professors actually educating them to do?
In Annapolis Autumn, Bruce Fleming, professor of English for nearly two decades at the academy and a prizewinning author, captures the sights, sounds, colors, and conversations of this tradition-steeped institution.
"If it's a choice between a gay man with a rifle between me and the enemy or nobody at all, I'd rather have the gay man."—A student's response upon learning that the World War I poet Wilfred Owen was probably gay
What really goes on behind the wall that surrounds the United States Naval Academy in Annapolis? What are all those midshipmen, future officers in the U.S. Naval and Marine Corps and leaders of our society, thinking as they stand in neat ranks at the parades beloved by tourists? What are their professors actually educating them to do?
In Annapolis Autumn, Bruce Fleming, professor of English for nearly two decades at the academy and a prizewinning author, captures the sights, sounds, colors, and conversations of this tradition-steeped institution.
January 20, 2013
Overall the book is slow at the beginning and would be difficult to establish interest with someone who is not a midshipman at the academy. They chapters are short and gloss over various aspects of life and the academy. The ending was by far the best. Section III of the book is the only part you really need to read or should read. It offers good commentary and examples of the many flaws at the institution and provides a great parable of Classical and Romantic structures that describes USNA's role in society. A good read for MIDS, not so much for any random person.
October 18, 2007
There aren't many books out there that delve into life at the United States Naval Academy, but this is one of the few. It is written by a current professor at the Academy who is not very complimentary of the administration.
As I read this book quite a while ago, I will have to write a more in depth review in the future.
As I read this book quite a while ago, I will have to write a more in depth review in the future.
Read
January 26, 2008I bought this from Hardbean.
My friend Libby is mentioned, though not by name.
My friend Libby is mentioned, though not by name.
January 24, 2017
Well written collection of essays
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