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Jason Fitger #2
The Shakespeare Requirement
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune keep hitting beleaguered English professor Jason Fitger right between the eyes in this hilarious and eagerly awaited sequel to the cult classic of anhedonic academe, the Thurber Prize-winning Dear Committee Members. Once more into the breach...
Now is the fall of his discontent, as Jason Fitger, newly appointed chair of the English Department of Payne University, takes aim against a sea of troubles, personal and institutional. His ex-wife is sleeping with the dean who must approve whatever modest initiatives he undertakes. The fearsome department secretary Fran clearly runs the show (when not taking in rescue parrots and dogs) and holds plenty of secrets she's not sharing. The lavishly funded Econ Department keeps siphoning off English's meager resources and has taken aim at its remaining office space. And Fitger's attempt to get a mossbacked and antediluvian Shakespeare scholar to retire backfires spectacularly when the press concludes that the Bard is being kicked to the curricular curb.
Lord, what fools these mortals be! Julie Schumacher proves the point and makes the most of it in this delicious romp ofsatire.
Now is the fall of his discontent, as Jason Fitger, newly appointed chair of the English Department of Payne University, takes aim against a sea of troubles, personal and institutional. His ex-wife is sleeping with the dean who must approve whatever modest initiatives he undertakes. The fearsome department secretary Fran clearly runs the show (when not taking in rescue parrots and dogs) and holds plenty of secrets she's not sharing. The lavishly funded Econ Department keeps siphoning off English's meager resources and has taken aim at its remaining office space. And Fitger's attempt to get a mossbacked and antediluvian Shakespeare scholar to retire backfires spectacularly when the press concludes that the Bard is being kicked to the curricular curb.
Lord, what fools these mortals be! Julie Schumacher proves the point and makes the most of it in this delicious romp ofsatire.
309 pages, Hardcover
First published August 14, 2018
About the author
Julie Schumacher
27 books459 followersJULIE SCHUMACHER grew up in Wilmington, Delaware, and graduated from Oberlin College and Cornell University, where she earned her MFA. Her first novel, The Body Is Water, was published by Soho Press in 1995 and was an ALA Notable Book of the Year and a finalist for the PEN/Hemingway Award. Her 2014 novel, Dear Committee Members, won the Thurber Prize for American Humor; she is the first woman to have been so honored. She lives in St. Paul and is a faculty member in the Creative Writing Program and the Department of English at the University of Minnesota.
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March 20, 2018
Jason Fitger, the beleaguered English professor who was the protagonist of Julie Schumacher's very funny
Dear Committee Members
, takes us on a return trip to Payne University in Schumacher's new book,
The Shakespeare Requirement
. Fitger, pompous and irascible as ever, finds himself elected chair of the English department, and he has no idea of the chaos and aggravation that awaits him.
As if having to work on substandard equipment and in squalid conditions isn't bad enough, the Economics Department and its chair, Roland Gladwell, who convinced the university and corporate sponsors that his department needed state-of-the-art classrooms and technology, now has his eye on the English Department's remaining space. Fitger has to guard himself against angry wasps, faulty air conditioning, and a computer that might work—if he could ever get the University's IT department to schedule an appointment. (And don't try to set up a meeting with him on P-Cal, the university-wide calendar system, as he refuses to use it.)
But these problems are just the tip of the iceberg. He has to deal with a department in shambles, get his colleagues to adopt a new-agey Statement of Vision for the department (just ridiculous), and his attempts to get a 90-year-old Shakespearean scholar to retire backfire when the man convinces the press that Shakespeare isn't important to the English Department any longer. Plus, any requests he has have to be approved by the dean, who happens to be his ex-wife's lover. It's enough to make any man crumble.
The Shakespeare Requirement follows Fitger as he navigates university and department politics, tries to figure out exactly what his relationship is with his ex-wife, and wonders what secrets his assistant, Fran, is hiding. The book shifts narration among a number of characters—Fitger, his ex-wife Janet; Philip, Fitger's boss and Janet's lover; Fran; Roland Gladwell; Professor Cassovan, the Shakespeare expert; and Angela, a sheltered student away from home for the first time.
What I enjoyed so much about Dear Committee Members (see my review) is that it was an epistolary novel—the whole story was told through letters Fitger wrote to various people within and outside the university. His voice was tremendously memorable and at times hysterically funny, plus it reminded me of a committee chairman I was working with at the time.
However, this book is told in the traditional narrative style, which didn't quite work for me. While most of the characters used the same pompous, high-brow language that Fitger did in the earlier book, the story didn't flow as well in this manner. I thought there were too many characters to follow, and after a while there were so many machinations to keep straight, so much politics to navigate, I didn't enjoy it as much as I had hoped.
Stories of systemic dysfunction and office politics are often humorous, and some may find this funnier than I did. There's no doubt that Schumacher is a talented storyteller, and these characters are fascinating. I'd love her to write another epistolary novel someday—it's a terrific change of pace!
NetGalley and Doubleday Books provided me an advance copy of the book in exchange for an unbiased review. Thanks for making this available!
See all of my reviews at itseithersadnessoreuphoria.blogspot.com, or check out my list of the best books I read in 2017 at https://itseithersadnessoreuphoria.blogspot.com/2018/01/the-best-books-i-read-in-2017.html.
As if having to work on substandard equipment and in squalid conditions isn't bad enough, the Economics Department and its chair, Roland Gladwell, who convinced the university and corporate sponsors that his department needed state-of-the-art classrooms and technology, now has his eye on the English Department's remaining space. Fitger has to guard himself against angry wasps, faulty air conditioning, and a computer that might work—if he could ever get the University's IT department to schedule an appointment. (And don't try to set up a meeting with him on P-Cal, the university-wide calendar system, as he refuses to use it.)
But these problems are just the tip of the iceberg. He has to deal with a department in shambles, get his colleagues to adopt a new-agey Statement of Vision for the department (just ridiculous), and his attempts to get a 90-year-old Shakespearean scholar to retire backfire when the man convinces the press that Shakespeare isn't important to the English Department any longer. Plus, any requests he has have to be approved by the dean, who happens to be his ex-wife's lover. It's enough to make any man crumble.
The Shakespeare Requirement follows Fitger as he navigates university and department politics, tries to figure out exactly what his relationship is with his ex-wife, and wonders what secrets his assistant, Fran, is hiding. The book shifts narration among a number of characters—Fitger, his ex-wife Janet; Philip, Fitger's boss and Janet's lover; Fran; Roland Gladwell; Professor Cassovan, the Shakespeare expert; and Angela, a sheltered student away from home for the first time.
What I enjoyed so much about Dear Committee Members (see my review) is that it was an epistolary novel—the whole story was told through letters Fitger wrote to various people within and outside the university. His voice was tremendously memorable and at times hysterically funny, plus it reminded me of a committee chairman I was working with at the time.
However, this book is told in the traditional narrative style, which didn't quite work for me. While most of the characters used the same pompous, high-brow language that Fitger did in the earlier book, the story didn't flow as well in this manner. I thought there were too many characters to follow, and after a while there were so many machinations to keep straight, so much politics to navigate, I didn't enjoy it as much as I had hoped.
Stories of systemic dysfunction and office politics are often humorous, and some may find this funnier than I did. There's no doubt that Schumacher is a talented storyteller, and these characters are fascinating. I'd love her to write another epistolary novel someday—it's a terrific change of pace!
NetGalley and Doubleday Books provided me an advance copy of the book in exchange for an unbiased review. Thanks for making this available!
See all of my reviews at itseithersadnessoreuphoria.blogspot.com, or check out my list of the best books I read in 2017 at https://itseithersadnessoreuphoria.blogspot.com/2018/01/the-best-books-i-read-in-2017.html.
July 30, 2018
I was looking through my books read shelf for a funny book to recommend to a Goodreads friend and I realized that I haven’t read very many funny books. Having enjoyed Dear Committee Members by this author, I thought this sequel to Jason Fitger’s trials and tribulations as a college professor would provide me with a few laughs and it did . Fitger is now chair of the English departmental at Payne University and is faced with a number of challenges. The dilapidated offices of the English department are in dire need of renovation. There is no department budget until he gets the faculty to agree on a Statement of Vision which all of the other departments submitted last year. To make matters worse, Raymond Gladwell, head of the Economics department residing in the newly renovated, state of the art space on second floor of Willard Hall, has plans to take over the English department space on the first floor and basement. To add insult to injury his ex wife is sleeping with the Dean whose approval is needed to make necessary changes in the department. Oh and there are wasps in his office . Dennis Cassovan , professor of Shakespeare on the verge of retirement, wants Shakespeare to be required reading as part of the vision statement, while another faculty member was concerned about “eliminating the dashes in paragraph three.” And so it turns into a “Shakespeare problem.”
I admit this was funny, but I also have to admit that I just didn’t enjoy this as much as Dear Committee Members which reflected the absurdity of it all through Fitger’s hilarious, snarky letters which so eloquently depicted his frustrations. This just didn’t work as well for me in the straight narrative format. Then there was a veering off about a student’s personal problems. However, it was entertaining, full of quirky characters, and I still think there is an audience for this, most likely in academia, who could perhaps relate to this no matter what the narrative format.
I received an advanced copy of this book from Doubleday through Edelweiss and NetGalley.
July 1, 2018
I’m old enough to remember that the biggest parlor game of the 1970s and 1980s amongst US readers was to bicker over whether the latest Stephen King movie did justice to the book from which it was adapted. Everyone had read each subject book before viewing the corollary movie. You can imagine that no one ever liked the movie better. But, more than that, the conversation criticizing the applicable movie could go on for, literally, hours as each participant piled on with his or her heresy committed by the applicable director. If we’d had whiteboards, they would have needed to be very large and everyone would have needed to write in quite tiny lettering. It got rather tiresome by his 8th or 9th bestseller. Trust me.
In a similar vein, there are a subset of readers who adored Dear Committee Members, Julie Schumacher’s 2014 epistolary novel, a wonderful, fresh send-up of the English Department at Payne University, who will be so disappointed that The Shakespeare Requirement is told in standard narrative form that they will be unable to get past that difference to approach The Shakespeare Requirement on its own terms. As a result, they are likely to nitpick and compare the novels to death, to the detriment of The Shakespeare Requirement. Let’s get this out of the way: The Shakespeare Requirement is no Dear Committee Members. But it shouldn’t have to be. Nor should Schumacher be expected to have written her sequel in epistolary form so that we can all essentially read the same book with a different title and adding few new characters.
In fact, the reader most likely to enjoy The Shakespeare Requirement is someone who comes to it without having read Dear Committee Members, enjoys smart humor (several notches up from The Rosie Project but with a similar breeziness to it) and, in particular, is amused by either academia or bureaucracy or is or was an English major. Mea culpa. There’s also nothing in The Shakespeare Requirement that requires a reader to have any certain background knowledge derived from reading the earlier book.
One thing Schumacher does exceptionally well is lull the reader along into thinking her novel is one mere quip after another and then, she tackles a serious topic in an authentic and satisfying way. She also excels at endings, which is no small feat. In between, the plot isn’t quite substantial enough to support 320 pages, and it dragged a bit in the middle, but the characters are tremendous fun, and not mere stereotypes. Well ... except for Roland Gladwell, the insufferable Economics Department chair, and that’s no surprise to any English majors. I’ve heard. From friends.
Thanks to NetGalley and Doubleday books for supplying a review copy.
In a similar vein, there are a subset of readers who adored Dear Committee Members, Julie Schumacher’s 2014 epistolary novel, a wonderful, fresh send-up of the English Department at Payne University, who will be so disappointed that The Shakespeare Requirement is told in standard narrative form that they will be unable to get past that difference to approach The Shakespeare Requirement on its own terms. As a result, they are likely to nitpick and compare the novels to death, to the detriment of The Shakespeare Requirement. Let’s get this out of the way: The Shakespeare Requirement is no Dear Committee Members. But it shouldn’t have to be. Nor should Schumacher be expected to have written her sequel in epistolary form so that we can all essentially read the same book with a different title and adding few new characters.
In fact, the reader most likely to enjoy The Shakespeare Requirement is someone who comes to it without having read Dear Committee Members, enjoys smart humor (several notches up from The Rosie Project but with a similar breeziness to it) and, in particular, is amused by either academia or bureaucracy or is or was an English major. Mea culpa. There’s also nothing in The Shakespeare Requirement that requires a reader to have any certain background knowledge derived from reading the earlier book.
One thing Schumacher does exceptionally well is lull the reader along into thinking her novel is one mere quip after another and then, she tackles a serious topic in an authentic and satisfying way. She also excels at endings, which is no small feat. In between, the plot isn’t quite substantial enough to support 320 pages, and it dragged a bit in the middle, but the characters are tremendous fun, and not mere stereotypes. Well ... except for Roland Gladwell, the insufferable Economics Department chair, and that’s no surprise to any English majors. I’ve heard. From friends.
Thanks to NetGalley and Doubleday books for supplying a review copy.
July 24, 2026
__________________________
“Each age must find its own Shakespeare.” –– Jan Kott
I recently read Julie Schumacher’s Dear Committee Member, a hilarious epistolary novel composed entirely of letters of recommendation that Professor Jason Fitger wrote for advisees, junior faculty members, and others at Payne University. Fitger has a heart of gol…sorry. He does NOT have a heart of gold; he has a heart of phosphorous—an element that in its pure form will burst into flames when exposed to air. And bursting into flames is exactly what Fitger tends to do while writing his letters of recommendation. If he doesn’t like who the LOR is going to, he makes it clear in his letter. If the person asking for a recommendation doesn’t deserve it, he will fill the letter with left-handed compliments. If he is irritated by something not apropos to the LOR at all, he will include it in his letter. Fitger is a cantankerous crank and curmudgeon, and an absolute delight to read.
In The Shakespeare Requirement, the humanities departments at Payne University are in trouble. The university administration is trying to eliminate all of them—English literature, foreign languages, art, theater, dance, philosophy, history—by book or crook. They are just not making a profit. In the English department, students can no longer earn a degree in Creative Writing. The Shakespeare class is no longer required for English literature majors. The department’s funding is being slashed. Non-tenured teachers and adjunct faculty are being tossed out willy-nilly out the basement windows. And Fitger, against his will, has been made the department chair. The administration hopes he will blow the whole thing up, but he is determined to save the department.
I have degree in English Lit and managed to make a living off of it. Not a good living you understand, but it paid for our beans and gruel and put a roof over our bed. Yes, Shakespeare and Coleridge were fairly, fairly good to me. Today, however, things have changed. Kids want to study literature that they can relate to, like the Collected Works of Your Favorite Internet Influencer’s Descriptions of the Swag They Found in Boxes.
You may think that I made influencer example up—and OK, you caught me sneaking out of the chicken coop there—but I did some actual research on CoPilot AI and discovered that some of the courses mentioned in Schumacher’s satire are quite real. For instance, one of the profs in the novel has been reduced to teaching a course on the Manga Graphic Novel Version of Macbeth and Other Classic Plays. According to my AI search, at least 40 universities in the U.S. offer at least one literature course based on manga graphic novels.
Fitger himself is teaching a class called The Literature of the Apocalypse (featuring books like The Day of the Triffids and Oryx and Crake) to pacify the kiddies. My CoPilot search revealed that Boston University offers a course with that exact title and around 60 universities in the U.S. offer similar courses.
Even my own alma mater—the Yale of South Jacksonville, Illinois—where I once studied Milton, Chaucer, Dickens, the Romantic Poets, and Victorian Prose and Poetics, in great detail is now offering courses like Literature Goes Pop, Monsters and Myth in the British Literary Tradition, Literary DNA: Investigating the Gothic (which includes vampires, fairy tales, and of course—I am not kidding—feminism and disability), Witch Hunts to the White City (which is the literature of women from the time of witch hunts to the Chicago Exhibition of 1898), and another course called LOL: Concepts of Comedy.
If I had known you could custom order courses like this when I was in school, I would have requisitioned a course on CliffNotes as the Meta-Literature of the 1960s.
My old college does have a course called Shakespeare on Stage and Screen, which according to the official course description is “a study of some of Shakespeare’s greatest hits and how these plays have been transformed into movies, from filmed stage productions to contemporary riffs on the characters and storylines.” No other course in Shakespeare is currently being offered, and the sole Shakespeare is NOT required in order to obtain a degree in English lit. No dedicated courses in Milton, or Chaucer or Falkner or any other individual author even exists anymore.
At Payne University, however, even the dumbed down curricula haven’t solved things. Fitger can’t win. Dumbed-down students still have demands. The following article appeared in the university newspaper:
Fitger wonders how students can be triggered by the Apocalypse when they haven’t lived through it. The battle is on.
🌟🌟🌟🌟 Stars
This is a wonderfully funny book for people who are familiar with academia. I taught a couple of courses in business writing at a junior college for a time. I was one of those scholars whose main qualification was that I could remember to turn off the lights at 10 pm when I left. However, as an editor for an educational publisher, I worked closely with university academics for over 25 years, and I feel I can speak for them when I say, “Give ‘em Hell, Fitger! Give them Hell!
Here is a link to my review of the 1st book in the series.
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
“Each age must find its own Shakespeare.” –– Jan Kott
I recently read Julie Schumacher’s Dear Committee Member, a hilarious epistolary novel composed entirely of letters of recommendation that Professor Jason Fitger wrote for advisees, junior faculty members, and others at Payne University. Fitger has a heart of gol…sorry. He does NOT have a heart of gold; he has a heart of phosphorous—an element that in its pure form will burst into flames when exposed to air. And bursting into flames is exactly what Fitger tends to do while writing his letters of recommendation. If he doesn’t like who the LOR is going to, he makes it clear in his letter. If the person asking for a recommendation doesn’t deserve it, he will fill the letter with left-handed compliments. If he is irritated by something not apropos to the LOR at all, he will include it in his letter. Fitger is a cantankerous crank and curmudgeon, and an absolute delight to read.
In The Shakespeare Requirement, the humanities departments at Payne University are in trouble. The university administration is trying to eliminate all of them—English literature, foreign languages, art, theater, dance, philosophy, history—by book or crook. They are just not making a profit. In the English department, students can no longer earn a degree in Creative Writing. The Shakespeare class is no longer required for English literature majors. The department’s funding is being slashed. Non-tenured teachers and adjunct faculty are being tossed out willy-nilly out the basement windows. And Fitger, against his will, has been made the department chair. The administration hopes he will blow the whole thing up, but he is determined to save the department.
I have degree in English Lit and managed to make a living off of it. Not a good living you understand, but it paid for our beans and gruel and put a roof over our bed. Yes, Shakespeare and Coleridge were fairly, fairly good to me. Today, however, things have changed. Kids want to study literature that they can relate to, like the Collected Works of Your Favorite Internet Influencer’s Descriptions of the Swag They Found in Boxes.
You may think that I made influencer example up—and OK, you caught me sneaking out of the chicken coop there—but I did some actual research on CoPilot AI and discovered that some of the courses mentioned in Schumacher’s satire are quite real. For instance, one of the profs in the novel has been reduced to teaching a course on the Manga Graphic Novel Version of Macbeth and Other Classic Plays. According to my AI search, at least 40 universities in the U.S. offer at least one literature course based on manga graphic novels.
Fitger himself is teaching a class called The Literature of the Apocalypse (featuring books like The Day of the Triffids and Oryx and Crake) to pacify the kiddies. My CoPilot search revealed that Boston University offers a course with that exact title and around 60 universities in the U.S. offer similar courses.
Even my own alma mater—the Yale of South Jacksonville, Illinois—where I once studied Milton, Chaucer, Dickens, the Romantic Poets, and Victorian Prose and Poetics, in great detail is now offering courses like Literature Goes Pop, Monsters and Myth in the British Literary Tradition, Literary DNA: Investigating the Gothic (which includes vampires, fairy tales, and of course—I am not kidding—feminism and disability), Witch Hunts to the White City (which is the literature of women from the time of witch hunts to the Chicago Exhibition of 1898), and another course called LOL: Concepts of Comedy.
If I had known you could custom order courses like this when I was in school, I would have requisitioned a course on CliffNotes as the Meta-Literature of the 1960s.
My old college does have a course called Shakespeare on Stage and Screen, which according to the official course description is “a study of some of Shakespeare’s greatest hits and how these plays have been transformed into movies, from filmed stage productions to contemporary riffs on the characters and storylines.” No other course in Shakespeare is currently being offered, and the sole Shakespeare is NOT required in order to obtain a degree in English lit. No dedicated courses in Milton, or Chaucer or Falkner or any other individual author even exists anymore.
At Payne University, however, even the dumbed down curricula haven’t solved things. Fitger can’t win. Dumbed-down students still have demands. The following article appeared in the university newspaper:
The Campus Scribe (January 11, 2011): Two undergraduates enrolled in an English class taught by department chair and Professor Jason T. Fitger have lodged complaints with the university’s Office of Mental Health and Wellness about traumatizing material required by the syllabus. The students, who have requested anonymity, claim that the reading list for the fall class—on the “Literature of Apocalypse”—was detrimental to their mental health and “psychologically hostile.”
Sophomore Yvetta Curtin, who was not enrolled in the class but had seen a copy of the syllabus, suggested that the selection of novels was “irresponsible” and could be dangerous for students with emotional issues or PTSD. This is part of the faculty’s systematic disregard for the well-being of students,” Curtin said. “We shouldn’t have to put up with this kind of insensitivity.”
Fitger wonders how students can be triggered by the Apocalypse when they haven’t lived through it. The battle is on.
🌟🌟🌟🌟 Stars
This is a wonderfully funny book for people who are familiar with academia. I taught a couple of courses in business writing at a junior college for a time. I was one of those scholars whose main qualification was that I could remember to turn off the lights at 10 pm when I left. However, as an editor for an educational publisher, I worked closely with university academics for over 25 years, and I feel I can speak for them when I say, “Give ‘em Hell, Fitger! Give them Hell!
Here is a link to my review of the 1st book in the series.
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
August 5, 2018
Hilarious followup to Dear Committee Members. Should be required reading of all of us working in academia, for comic relief as we head into the fall semester (but read the first book first as they are consecutive).
The professor from the first novel has new responsibilities in this one, but is still trying to confront his failed relationship amidst these new challenges - these include losing access to the departmental conference room (as all rooms on campus are in the new campus scheduling system, omg is this about where I work?!), the encroaching imperialism of the Economics Department upstairs (who got renovated the previous year, with fancy carpet, espresso, and donor plaques), and worse, the writing on the wall seems to be the ultimate demise of his entire department.
I think anyone in academia will find a lot of familiar groans in this book. I was giggling in the corner the entire time.
Thanks to the publisher for providing an eARC through through Edelweiss. It comes out August 14.
The professor from the first novel has new responsibilities in this one, but is still trying to confront his failed relationship amidst these new challenges - these include losing access to the departmental conference room (as all rooms on campus are in the new campus scheduling system, omg is this about where I work?!), the encroaching imperialism of the Economics Department upstairs (who got renovated the previous year, with fancy carpet, espresso, and donor plaques), and worse, the writing on the wall seems to be the ultimate demise of his entire department.
I think anyone in academia will find a lot of familiar groans in this book. I was giggling in the corner the entire time.
Thanks to the publisher for providing an eARC through through Edelweiss. It comes out August 14.
September 4, 2018
A funny, light academic comedy, The Shakespeare Requirement is a sequel to Schumacher’s hilarious epistolary novel Dear Committee Members, and I must agree with several of my Goodreads friends that it pales in comparison. Dear Committee Members was inspired; The Shakespeare Requirement, although humorous, is not. Also it has so many details of comic academia in common with two other novels that I’ve read recently (primarily Straight Man by Richard Russo but also Blue Angel by Francine Prose)—everything from the specificity of a broken tooth to battles with machinery and architecture—that sometimes I forgot which novel I was reading.
However five chapters in, it briefly came alive and new when the beleaguered Professor Jason T. Fitger (star of the two books), “local literary SOB and unexceptional novelist—and, of course, English Department chair” (109), a man in a never-ending fight to exist, deals with his ex-wife Janet Matthias. Janet works in the law school and was tangential in the first book. With her we suddenly get to see a real woman in all her disdainful glory—far better written than the wife in Russo’s book. She is original and funny and I wish Schumacher had chosen to write her life as a sequel. The first book was so strong and complete, I don’t think there’s more needed about Fitger. But Janet’s epistolary novel would be one I would have savored.
In her acknowledgements, Schumacher mentions that her editor turned down the first version of this sequel, and since I loved Dear Committee Members , I’m experiencing editor’s envy. Had I been her editor, I would have urged her to do more epistolary novels from the points of view of other characters mentioned in the first book. What was so enticing about Dear Committee Members was how Schumacher communicated through Fitger’s ever-more frustrated letters to his colleagues his deep love and care for his students; in other words, soul shone through his crusty façade such that the reader fell in love. Imagine doing that for a whole community of impossible people. Now that would be a series worth reading.
It’s unfair to compare this book to the earlier one or to Straight Man , but it’s hard not to. If you haven’t read Dear Committee Members, you’ll probably be able to see this new book more objectively than those of us who have. And if you haven’t read Straight Man, the comedy may seem bombastic and original.
However five chapters in, it briefly came alive and new when the beleaguered Professor Jason T. Fitger (star of the two books), “local literary SOB and unexceptional novelist—and, of course, English Department chair” (109), a man in a never-ending fight to exist, deals with his ex-wife Janet Matthias. Janet works in the law school and was tangential in the first book. With her we suddenly get to see a real woman in all her disdainful glory—far better written than the wife in Russo’s book. She is original and funny and I wish Schumacher had chosen to write her life as a sequel. The first book was so strong and complete, I don’t think there’s more needed about Fitger. But Janet’s epistolary novel would be one I would have savored.
In her acknowledgements, Schumacher mentions that her editor turned down the first version of this sequel, and since I loved Dear Committee Members , I’m experiencing editor’s envy. Had I been her editor, I would have urged her to do more epistolary novels from the points of view of other characters mentioned in the first book. What was so enticing about Dear Committee Members was how Schumacher communicated through Fitger’s ever-more frustrated letters to his colleagues his deep love and care for his students; in other words, soul shone through his crusty façade such that the reader fell in love. Imagine doing that for a whole community of impossible people. Now that would be a series worth reading.
It’s unfair to compare this book to the earlier one or to Straight Man , but it’s hard not to. If you haven’t read Dear Committee Members, you’ll probably be able to see this new book more objectively than those of us who have. And if you haven’t read Straight Man, the comedy may seem bombastic and original.
August 8, 2018
School won’t start for another month, but Jason Fitger -- from "Dear Committee Members" -- is now back in a hilarious sequel called “The Shakespeare Requirement,” which gave me a chance to call up Julie Schumacher at her home in St. Paul, Minn., and fawn like a first-semester freshman. Originally, she had no plans to continue the story of Fitger’s travails at Payne University. “But ‘Dear Committee Members’ was such a slim little thing,” she says. “The form was so narrow that I didn’t get a chance to go play with Fitger the way I wanted to. So after about a year, I found myself thinking, ‘What would it be like for him to chair the department?’ ”
“The Shakespeare Requirement” provides the hilarious answer to that question.
The epistolary structure of her previous novel is gone — this is a straight narrative delivered with acrid wit — but Fitger is still here at its center, just as irritated and . . . .
To read the rest of this review, go to The Washington Post:
https://www.washingtonpost.com/entert...
“The Shakespeare Requirement” provides the hilarious answer to that question.
The epistolary structure of her previous novel is gone — this is a straight narrative delivered with acrid wit — but Fitger is still here at its center, just as irritated and . . . .
To read the rest of this review, go to The Washington Post:
https://www.washingtonpost.com/entert...
June 21, 2019
This is the clever satirical sequel to Julie Schumacher’s Dear Committee Members. The trials and sufferings of Professor Fitger continue and his battle in the age old academic conflict of humanities vs technical education is brutal. The financially solvent Econ Dept has remodeled and taken over the floor above him. He has no heat, no computer, no budget, and an animal-rescuing secretary. The personalities and the unreasonable requirements of his university are the same in any large institution/government agency/organization and I believe the reader will connect, as I did, with the overwhelming absurdities in Fitger’s occupation. Underneath it all, Professor Fitger is a good guy and education is his sword.
4.5 stars. Highly recommended.
4.5 stars. Highly recommended.
Read
August 14, 2018This is a sequel to the author’s Dear Committee Members, a hilarious sendup of the pettifoggery of academia.
In this book, new department head Jason Fitger, pompous and irascible as ever, is as usual clueless about the chaos and aggravation that awaits him, to the annoyance of Fran, his efficient assistant.
Looming over all the small exasperations is the menace of the Economics Department and its chair, Roland Gladwell, who convinced the university and corporate sponsors that his department needed state-of-the-art classrooms and technology. But like all kings, he still has realms to conquer . . . meaning he now covets the English Department's remaining space.
Then there is the hell of Mission Statements. Anyone who has had to deal with this most gaseous of useless red tape snarls will shudder, or cackle, at the prospect of the mayhem ahead.
Fitger’s attempt to get a 90-year-old Shakespearean scholar to retire backfires when the man convinces the press that Shakespeare isn't important to the English Department any longer.
And then, there’s his ex-wife to be dealt with, now the significant other of the dean . . .
I suspect the readers who will enjoy this book the most will be those who haven’t read Dear Committee Members. This book is full of quips, and sly as well as not so sly skewerings of faculty politics. The reader does not have to have read the previous book to catch up on the various personalities, as there is plenty of introduction through free indirect discourse narrative terpsichore.
But the constant barrage of cleverness began to blur, at least for me, making the middle drag. I knew where a couple of storylines would go from their introduction, such as Angela’s. Standard characters and development weigh down this type of social satire, and I found myself wishing that the author had stayed with the delightful format of the previous book.
Still, a fun read—Schumacher does have a way with words!
Copy provided by NetGalley
August 24, 2018
Full disclosure: The author is my sister, so of course I’m going to give it 5 stars. But in any event, I would not give it less than 4. She writes *really* well, with great characters. And the ending is fantastic.
August 20, 2018
(2.5; DNF @ 44%) This sequel to Dear Committee Members was only mildly amusing. Jason Fitger is now Payne’s chair of English, a shabby and underfunded department that always seems to get passed over while Economics receives special treatment. His hapless floundering – wasp stings, dental treatment, accidentally getting high on pills before a party – induced a few cringes but no real laughs. The supporting characters are well drawn, but overall I had zero qualms about setting this aside.
February 13, 2019
Review to come
October 3, 2018
At first I was disappointed that I wasn't reading Fitger's letters, as in Schumacher's epistolary style Dear Committee Members, but it was such a pleasure to revisit Jason Fitger in the hallowed halls of Payne University that I soon appreciated the story's continued narrative from a broader point of view.
The new cast of characters are vivid. Anyone who has majored in English will recognize their eccentricities, just as anyone who has visited graduate students' offices in the basement closets of campus buildings will recognize the setting.
Fitger remains the antihero of the humanities championing the causes of threatened departments everywhere. If Julie Schumacher gets a movie deal for her novels, I hope she casts Larry David as the lead, and Alysia Reiner (who plays "Fig" in Orange is the New Black) as his ex-wife, Janet.
Fitger's concern for home-schooled, first-year student, Angela Vackrey, recalls his efforts to help graduate student Darren Browles in DCM. We see, in these efforts, that kindness and concern ultimately drive his motivations, which more often than not result in the laugh-out-loud situations at the heart of this sequel.
If you liked Dear Committee Members be sure to read The Shakespeare Requirement.
The new cast of characters are vivid. Anyone who has majored in English will recognize their eccentricities, just as anyone who has visited graduate students' offices in the basement closets of campus buildings will recognize the setting.
Fitger remains the antihero of the humanities championing the causes of threatened departments everywhere. If Julie Schumacher gets a movie deal for her novels, I hope she casts Larry David as the lead, and Alysia Reiner (who plays "Fig" in Orange is the New Black) as his ex-wife, Janet.
Fitger's concern for home-schooled, first-year student, Angela Vackrey, recalls his efforts to help graduate student Darren Browles in DCM. We see, in these efforts, that kindness and concern ultimately drive his motivations, which more often than not result in the laugh-out-loud situations at the heart of this sequel.
If you liked Dear Committee Members be sure to read The Shakespeare Requirement.
September 9, 2018
Does what good satire is supposed to do: exposes the reality of actual problems with higher education today, and explodes them hilariously enough to make them bearable. Recognizable characters whose basic goodness brings about a hopeful conflict resolution. Maybe we're not all doomed, after all.
November 1, 2018
3.5, rounded up.
I read this immediately following its prequel, Dear Committee Members, which was both fortuitous and unfortunate. Fortuitous, in that the two books really make a nice cohesive, seamless whole, the second book following in time immediately upon the ending of the first one. Unfortunate, in that, even though the humor and enjoy-ability of the first remains, what made DCM so brilliant was its being an epistolary novel, entirely composed of the protagonist's letters of recommendation on various subjects. This sequel reverts to a standard novelistic format, so suffers a bit, but only in comparison - it's still a fun, fast-paced read, but one does miss the caustic first person voice of Jason Fitger. I might add that one DOESN'T need to have read the first book to understand or 'get' all that goes on here, but do read DCM first anyway. My only other quibble is there seems to be some rather superfluous subplots here (in particular the plight of poor Angela, which somewhat bogs down the ending) ... but if Schumacher ever decides this needs to be a trilogy, I'm definitely on board for part three.
My sincere thanks to Netgalley and Doubleday for an ARC of the book, in exchange for this honest review.
I read this immediately following its prequel, Dear Committee Members, which was both fortuitous and unfortunate. Fortuitous, in that the two books really make a nice cohesive, seamless whole, the second book following in time immediately upon the ending of the first one. Unfortunate, in that, even though the humor and enjoy-ability of the first remains, what made DCM so brilliant was its being an epistolary novel, entirely composed of the protagonist's letters of recommendation on various subjects. This sequel reverts to a standard novelistic format, so suffers a bit, but only in comparison - it's still a fun, fast-paced read, but one does miss the caustic first person voice of Jason Fitger. I might add that one DOESN'T need to have read the first book to understand or 'get' all that goes on here, but do read DCM first anyway. My only other quibble is there seems to be some rather superfluous subplots here (in particular the plight of poor Angela, which somewhat bogs down the ending) ... but if Schumacher ever decides this needs to be a trilogy, I'm definitely on board for part three.
My sincere thanks to Netgalley and Doubleday for an ARC of the book, in exchange for this honest review.
August 6, 2019
This was a poignant and enjoyable sequel to Schumacher's 2014 novel Dear Committee Members. I enjoyed it.
4 stars
4 stars
February 8, 2019
Listened to this as an audiobook and the author's dry delivery and something about the beginning of the book made me almost stop listening. . . . Glad I didn't.
It was so much like the university where I work that I wondered if she was talking about my institution, with QWAP (or whatever the spelling is, since I listened to the book) a close approximation to our university budget initiatives that reward the "monetization" of work in colleges while cockroaches skitter underfoot and we are warned to cut to the bone since hunger helps promote innovation. English as the poor step-child that gets the crummy building and supplies (check). The university beholden to those administrators whose territoriality is second only to their hatred of faculty (check).
I found myself surprised at how much I was rooting for various characters; at various times I snort-laughed, guffawed, would have applauded if I weren't driving; I cried, and, at on point, shook my head in admiration at a perfect two word sentence. Would I dislike this if I weren't also living this life and appreciating the Payne of the characters' world? The author did a good job--and better I think than in "Dear Committee Members"--of making these characters more memorable, human, and believable, despite the satire. For what it's worth, I'm dedicating this review to a very good Dean at my university who lost out to a blunt-edge force (aka, upper administration) for some of the same foolish reasons noted in the novel--that is, the idea that efficiency and monetization are more important than hard-working personnel. Too bad there wasn't a mascot-generated faux paus similar to the one in "The Shakespeare Requirement" that allowed others to get their comeuppance.
It was so much like the university where I work that I wondered if she was talking about my institution, with QWAP (or whatever the spelling is, since I listened to the book) a close approximation to our university budget initiatives that reward the "monetization" of work in colleges while cockroaches skitter underfoot and we are warned to cut to the bone since hunger helps promote innovation. English as the poor step-child that gets the crummy building and supplies (check). The university beholden to those administrators whose territoriality is second only to their hatred of faculty (check).
I found myself surprised at how much I was rooting for various characters; at various times I snort-laughed, guffawed, would have applauded if I weren't driving; I cried, and, at on point, shook my head in admiration at a perfect two word sentence. Would I dislike this if I weren't also living this life and appreciating the Payne of the characters' world? The author did a good job--and better I think than in "Dear Committee Members"--of making these characters more memorable, human, and believable, despite the satire. For what it's worth, I'm dedicating this review to a very good Dean at my university who lost out to a blunt-edge force (aka, upper administration) for some of the same foolish reasons noted in the novel--that is, the idea that efficiency and monetization are more important than hard-working personnel. Too bad there wasn't a mascot-generated faux paus similar to the one in "The Shakespeare Requirement" that allowed others to get their comeuppance.
March 13, 2019
3.5 rounded down.
In today's headlines: Huffman is accused of giving $15,000 “to participate in the college entrance exam cheating scheme on behalf of her oldest daughter,” per the indictment, and Loughlin is accused of paying $500,000 to have her daughters designated as recruits to the USC crew team even though neither of them row crew.
And then I read this--which I'm sure is more realistic about college English departments--where the average adjunct professor doesn't even earn $15000, lights don't work and mice roam freely.
Her previous book in the series Dear Committee Members had more of a bite to it than this--here the department chair just seems old, tired and cranky...just as I remember all my professors decades ago.
It's a strange life how the majors that create high paying jobs (engineering, business) have the most comfortable departments thanks to the generosity of alumni vs. the liberal arts. Gym teachers and social workers don't tend to give back to their alma maters because, you know, mortgages and groceries and dentists...
In today's headlines: Huffman is accused of giving $15,000 “to participate in the college entrance exam cheating scheme on behalf of her oldest daughter,” per the indictment, and Loughlin is accused of paying $500,000 to have her daughters designated as recruits to the USC crew team even though neither of them row crew.
And then I read this--which I'm sure is more realistic about college English departments--where the average adjunct professor doesn't even earn $15000, lights don't work and mice roam freely.
Her previous book in the series Dear Committee Members had more of a bite to it than this--here the department chair just seems old, tired and cranky...just as I remember all my professors decades ago.
It's a strange life how the majors that create high paying jobs (engineering, business) have the most comfortable departments thanks to the generosity of alumni vs. the liberal arts. Gym teachers and social workers don't tend to give back to their alma maters because, you know, mortgages and groceries and dentists...
October 1, 2019
I'm a sucker for a good satire of academia, and Schumacher is pretty good at it. These sorts of books almost constitute their own genre, with rules that verge on formulaic. You must have the rebellious cynical professor with a good heart, usually a creative writing professor, who used to throw bombs from the sidelines but ironically finds himself chair. The cartoonish theorist who disdains actual books. The strident feminist. The person insisting on politically correct speech at every turn. The long-suffering, overworked adjunct with a borderline drinking problem. The evil, scheming administration. Regret over departmental incestuous affairs of the past. The perpetual struggle to find money to run the department. The competent assistant or other lower functionary who really keeps things running and serves as a potential love interest/crush. And in the background, the hapless students bumbling about trying against all odds to get an education. This one has it all.
December 10, 2018
This was borderline too painful to read. Working in academia, I can honestly say every description of setting, thoughts, dialogue, were SPOT on. Many people don't know this, but the behind the scenes work at any University is a hierarchical shit show of epic proportions. Schumacher clearly articulates it. But I wonder how many people outside of this kind of setting would enjoy this book. I feel like it would be a rather boring read.
"Fran would have been happy to run the department herself - but as a member of the staff she was restricted to the status of eternal helpmeet, her fate inextricably allied with that of the chair." Welcome to my world.
"Fran would have been happy to run the department herself - but as a member of the staff she was restricted to the status of eternal helpmeet, her fate inextricably allied with that of the chair." Welcome to my world.
September 8, 2018
Schumacher's novel was for me laugh-out-loud funny in parts, very few parts. The best of the book for me were her frequent delightful phrasing and imagery. As for "satire," I was under the impression that satire involved exaggeration. The venality and pettiness were all too obvious and recognizable. These are the sad days when reality frequently outstrips the imagination in many areas--not least, education and politics.
January 15, 2019
This was disappointing. I loved Dear Committee Members, but I think its epistolary form is was set it apart. In this more straightforward novel Schumacher's wit doesn't play as well--it's too broad and predictable. I would love her to try her hand at a novel that's not set at a university, and that isn't as unrelenting in its disdain.
August 29, 2023
Entertaining, but a little triggering for those of us who have escaped academia. I enjoyed the first book in the trilogy more than this, the second one, but I will put the third on my "want to read" list. This author really, really knows small liberal arts colleges.
September 25, 2022
Not as good as Dear Committee Members, but still eminently readable. In awe of Schumacher's ability to bring in pathos in the unlikeliest of times - in a book that's otherwise quite light, her ability to remind us of the joys, sorrows, and warmth that comes with being human.
May 25, 2020
I read this book because I was in need of a little frivolity, and a send-up of the English Department and academia in general sounded like it would fill the bill. A hearty laugh and some escapism.
It turned out the book was mildly amusing. I kept listening, because I really did need to find out what the author was going to do with her goofy characters, but there was an undertone of bitterness that discomfited and even saddened me. It’s possible I should not have done the audio version; the narration was dry and did not reflect the inanity of the plot.
The cast of characters is inventive enough. The protagonist, Professor Fitger, has just been named chair of an ungovernable English department at Payne University. Payne is a mediocre mid-Western university, befitting the stereotype of an academic spoof. His department is filled with unruly eccentrics. Most central is Professor Cassovan, who staunchly defends a traditional literary canon, especially Shakespeare. Fitger must come up with a vision statement, but his department will not agree on wording. Feminist scholars rise up against the dominance of white male authors (i.e., Shakespeare) in the canon. This issue is for real. Every campus witnesses some version of the argument.
But the argument about the canon is one that the department can cope with. It expects to have these disagreements, even though poor Fitger is ill equipped to moderate the issue. More ominously, the department is a poor relation among departments, willfully dominated by the Economics Department, which wallows in its various endowments. It raises money and therefore wields power with the administration. There is a collision in academia between the ideal of learning and the leverage brought by cold hard cash. Not a surprise.
Poor Fitger. His writing career has stalled, and he is still in love with his ex-wife, who is dating the dean. But things are looking up. There is a particularly bright young student, and a devious student intern who knows how to reserve scarce meeting space. The forces working against the Economics Department are small and effective, and we are rooting for them. The ending is… happy! Score one for the forces of good.
It turned out the book was mildly amusing. I kept listening, because I really did need to find out what the author was going to do with her goofy characters, but there was an undertone of bitterness that discomfited and even saddened me. It’s possible I should not have done the audio version; the narration was dry and did not reflect the inanity of the plot.
The cast of characters is inventive enough. The protagonist, Professor Fitger, has just been named chair of an ungovernable English department at Payne University. Payne is a mediocre mid-Western university, befitting the stereotype of an academic spoof. His department is filled with unruly eccentrics. Most central is Professor Cassovan, who staunchly defends a traditional literary canon, especially Shakespeare. Fitger must come up with a vision statement, but his department will not agree on wording. Feminist scholars rise up against the dominance of white male authors (i.e., Shakespeare) in the canon. This issue is for real. Every campus witnesses some version of the argument.
But the argument about the canon is one that the department can cope with. It expects to have these disagreements, even though poor Fitger is ill equipped to moderate the issue. More ominously, the department is a poor relation among departments, willfully dominated by the Economics Department, which wallows in its various endowments. It raises money and therefore wields power with the administration. There is a collision in academia between the ideal of learning and the leverage brought by cold hard cash. Not a surprise.
Poor Fitger. His writing career has stalled, and he is still in love with his ex-wife, who is dating the dean. But things are looking up. There is a particularly bright young student, and a devious student intern who knows how to reserve scarce meeting space. The forces working against the Economics Department are small and effective, and we are rooting for them. The ending is… happy! Score one for the forces of good.
February 7, 2024
Departments with wealthy donors, fundraising deans, and lavish offices; departments with duct-taped chairs and rodent problems; kafkaesque university IT departments; university colleagues who delight in strategy and maneuvering; colleagues who remain resolutely analog and unmoved; administrations suddenly taking notice when students and media shine a spotlight, good or bad, on a department; ... this one did not work for me. Dear Committee Members was delightful because it channeled the inner snark we all feel at these times. And it was viscerally satisfying to see someone living the dream, i.e., actually giving voice to that snark. This one didn't channel anything useful. It was bleak and depressing, when realistic, and annoying, when over the top.
November 6, 2018
This is a delightfully funny book. I think it is fair to consider it a satire disguised as a farce, rather than a farce disguised as a satire. Shakespeare would surely approve of characters such as the bumbling Professor Fitger, overmatched chair of the English Department, and his assistant Fran, the want-to-be animal behavior consultant, and Fitger's nemesis Roland Gladwell, the pompously ambitious chair of the Economics Department. And camouflaged by the buffoonery, the slapstick, the absurdities, and some subtler forms of humor, a cogent critique of the state of higher education is to be found. Perhaps best of all, your vocabulary will be improved.
March 15, 2019
Funny and moving at the same time, Schumacher does it again in this book by helping you love and hate fictional (but seemingly quite real) Jason T. Fitger, Chair of the English Department at Payne University. For sure check out her first book about him (Dear Committee Members) and then move on to this one which captures well the quirkiness of life in academia.
"...but all scholarly endeavor was eventually reduced to these confined symbols tucked into endless paper beds, then bound between tombstone covers and seldom disturbed."
"How could a class on the subject of apocalypse be personally triggering, when none of his students had yet lived through the end of the world?"
"...but all scholarly endeavor was eventually reduced to these confined symbols tucked into endless paper beds, then bound between tombstone covers and seldom disturbed."
"How could a class on the subject of apocalypse be personally triggering, when none of his students had yet lived through the end of the world?"
March 2, 2024
A change of pace from the first in the trilogy, this book is narrated in third person and introduces (and deposes ) many new characters to (from) the Payne menagerie. Dr Jay Fitger is back, but he is without the superior attitude of his letters of recommendation (and therefore also the brilliant wordplay) that served so well in Dear Committee Members, and so sinks rapidly to a mean level of incompetence (mean in the sense of average) trying to save the Department of English as well as selected faculty, students, and mascots. Still occasionally hilarious, but especially mean-spirited towards economists…
July 15, 2018
The Shakespeare Requirement is an entertaining, satirical read that takes on the state of affairs in today’s academia. Some of the plights and characters of the struggling to survive Humanities are so agonizingly real, it makes you want to cry; others are a bit over the top. There is a sub plot involving a naive freshman student that seems as if it belongs in another book and belabors the story. Otherwise, it is engaging and in some ways all too real.
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