Deborah Dundas is a journalist who grew up poor and almost didn’t make it to university. In On Class , she talks to writers, activists, those who work with the poor and those who are poor about what happens when we don’t talk about poverty or class―and what will happen when we do. Growing up poor, Deborah Dundas knew what it meant to want, to be hungry, and to long for social and economic dignity; she understood the crushing weight of having nothing much expected of you. But even after overcoming many of the usual barriers faced by lower- and working-class people, she still felt anxious about her place, and even in relatively safe spaces reluctant to broach the subject of class. While new social movements have generated open conversation about gender and racism, discussions of class rarely include the voices of those most deeply the working class and poor. On Class is an exploration of the ways in which we talk about of who tells the stories, and who doesn’t, which ones tend to be repeated most often, and why this has to change. It asks the What don’t we talk about when we don’t talk about class? And what might happen if, finally, we did?
Thoughts on class prompted by the pandemic. The importance of telling own, authentic stories. I was interested in the naming of things that we haven’t yet talked about in our discussions of intersectionality.
At the end of every chapter, I had the feeling that Dundas was on the brink of revealing more if she had pushed deeper into her analysis. But this book is a pamphlet after all and not meant to be long.
“The comfort of the rich depends on the abundance of the poor.” - Voltaire
I generally read very little nonfiction and even less in the field of sociology, but I found this to be a nicely presented, easily accessible read (or listen, in my case -- I had the audiobook, read by the author). There was a nice balance of anecdotes and commentary so it didn't feel too dry. One insight that I found really interesting was that it takes a certain level of financial stability to be able to write a book. There are lots of other factors making it difficult for authentic working class stories to reach a broad audience, but I hadn't ever considered this specific angle before.
A smart and punchy talk about that identity we don't talk about in Canada because it apparently doesn't exist. Nor, people say, does it impact our choices and opportunities.
Despite being an absolute SEO nightmare, I love these Field Notes from Biblioasis. Thoughtful conversations from a Canadian perspective — I had to grab the latest On Class from the books editor at the Toronto Star, Deborah Dundas.
Things that I take for granted like reminiscing about back to school shopping. Fresh new notebooks, a mittfull of highlighters, the misguided ambition of a Day Timer, and Post-Its galore was something Dundas didn't have an experience of. Even the modest Laurentian pencil crayons were out of her reach growing up. She was poor, and for many that realization is weighted with a sense of shame.
It's that bootstrap mentality. That we live in a meritocracy and that a little elbow grease is all you need to pull yourself up. That hard work gets rewarded - the corollary being that it's your fault alone if you don't succeed. With failure comes shame, which prevents folks from talking about it openly, and absolves those who find themselves on the positive side of the ever growing wealth gap.
The pandemic seemed a moment ripe to consider class more closely. How those at the lowest rungs suddenly became incredibly invaluable to keep things running. Heroic pay for grocery workers. Banging pots and pans for our PSWs and nurses. The continued expectation of migrant workers keeping the food coming. But all that attention and sympathy dried up as soon as the pandemic ended. Dundas is writing to remind us of the every growing disparity between the haves and have-nots.
In a time of soaring wealth and income inequality, one would assume that class would be a frequent topic of discussion. Sadly, it seems the term has disappeared from the political discourse. It’s a subject we talk around, but seldom talk about. In On Class, Toronto Star Books Columnist Deborah Dundas tackles this tough subject with a two-pronged approach. Most books on this subject are written by economists or political scientists, and they are filled with alarming statistics and academic jargon. This approach is helpful and has its merits, but it doesn’t tell us what it is like for those living just above, on, or below the poverty line. On Class provides the academic (and the end notes to prove it), which is prong number one. Prong number 2 is giving readers a glimpse into worlds they may be unfamiliar with. Supplementing her own experiences of growing up poor with those of others, we get a very intersectional view of life not often represented, or at least, not represented by those who actually live it. Dundas takes apart the meritocratic myths foisted upon us by executives and the heirs of old money, using data and research to deconstruct the illusions that we’ve been taught to believe are objective reality.
|| ON CLASS || #gifted/@biblioasis_books • "Most people will say they work hard. People with higher incomes will say they worked hard to get where they are--long hours to climb the corporate ladder or studying to get to university. People with lower incomes work hard too: people on the front lines, in low-wage jobs, the essential workers who have cared for us. Yet if we are all in the together, and if this work is indeed essential, why are we the people we've deemed to be so essential in a position where they are being forced by the pandemic to work even harder while getting sicker? To work hard yet be unable to afford the resources to educate their kids? What makes the job they're doing any more or less valuable than thoes professionals that allow people to work from home? Why has the system been set up this way?" ~from the introduction ✍🏻 On Class is an interesting and relevant short read exploring the ways we talk about class in Canada.
Why are we reluctant to talk about class? Dundas uses her journalistic talents, conversations with activists and writers and her own childhood reflections growing up poor to give a well crafted and worthwhile read on a subject we are not discussing enough in this day and age.
I enjoyed this. Not my typical non-fiction read but a thought-provoking one that opens the door for more conversations about class in hopes of change in the future.
A quick consideration of how we see and speak about (or don't) class. Written by a Canadian, this does focus mostly on Canada, but the parallels to American culture certainly exist (although most of the date is Canadian, and, as an American, I wondered how similar different it was for us... but not enough to look it up: my bad).
Ultimately, it asks the reader to consider, and talk about, class the way we have opened up conversations about race, gender, etc. Class still seems taboo according to the author, and I'm not sure that she's wrong. She is trying to draw attention to lack of class mobility as another intersecting factor in identity and success. And the Canadian/American Dream.
There was nothing that really blew my mind in here, but I'm glad that the book exists. And it's a good one for people to round out their awareness of other people's experiences in a data- and experience- driven way. Fans of novels and memoirs that deal with experiences in different (lower) classes might appreciate the context.
ON CLASS by Toronto Star editor and book reviewer, Deborah Dundas, is such a worthwhile read. It's a short 150 page exploration of class in Canada, one of a series of field notes from @biblioasis_books. It explores the ways we talk about class, and critically, all the ways we don't talk about it. It looks at how class impacts more than just our financial circumstances, and the power of social and cultural capital, and the intersections between class and so many other dimensions of oppression and exclusion.
Though grounded in research, it's never dense and is deeply informed by Dundas' lived experience and those of the people she interviews who either grew up poor and/or are struggling now.
Grateful for the review and recommendation from Heather and Arizona O'Neill over at @oneillreads. And if you're looking for a deeper dive in fiction into conversations about class, read Heather O'Neill's books
In On Class, Toronto Star books editor Deborah Dundas shines a light on a little-discussed subject that affects everyone's lives. Growing up in poverty, Dundas shares her first-hand experience of the unspoken rule that certain doors were closed to her due to her lack of financial resources and family connections, and the embarrassment and shame she felt. Packed with applicable statistics, the book shows that class barriers and racial discrimination prevent those on the lower rungs of the economic ladder from thriving, and posits that more needs to be done by government and society to even the playing field for everyone so that they have access to education, housing, food and quality of life. As the gulf between the haves and the have-nots widens, we need to advocate for food and income security for all.
This is a topic (being poor) that needs to be discussed but is often considered taboo in the places it most needs to be discussed (e.g. classrooms). Dundas is Canadian, so I really enjoyed that much of this book, while told from a North American perspective, is not centered around the United States. The discussion is framed through a Canadian lens which was interesting and enlightening, especially the stuff around the COVID pandemic. Personally, my history, as it relates to socioeconomic class, is complicated and this book highlighted some of the frustrations and anxieties that come with kind of having a foot in two very different worlds when it comes to class. I think if you've always had security when it comes to income, housing, and food, you should give this a listen.
I've been devouring everything I can find on class, so I'm not sure why I'm so disappointed in this book.
Maybe it's because not all working class people grew up in financially desperate situations, but some grew up with parents who were traumatized by poverty in their early years and had to deal with their emotional scars even when our physical needs were met. Maybe it's because I didn't learn much about how different our internal realities are from other classes.
Maybe class is just a difficult topic to cover, and difficult to include the realities of all people who self identify as working class.
Even though we know that class inequality has existed since the beginning of time, the approach that Deborah Dundas takes on this one was enlightening for me for two reasons: 1) I came to Canada when I was 35 years old, so I didn't grow up in the classist society portrayed in the book. 2) Although I didn't realize it until I was much older, I grew up in privilege. And some things I used to take for granted now I know are because of the privilege I experienced.
With inequality rising, housing becoming less affordable, and more families struggling to buy groceries, this book couldn't have been released at a better time.
i really like this field notes series. obviously the books are short — no time to go into great analytical depth, but that isn’t really the point, is it? these books feel more like they’re about inciting dialogue, sharing stories, and trying to push people beyond frameworks in which they might be stuck.
i really like the emphasis on interview and personal storytelling in this book. this, combined with the broader social question of WHOSE stories we’re telling, makes the decision to incorporate so much interview an intentional and powerful one.
this book is short, to-the-point, and insightful. dundas writes effectively and from the heart.
An easy to read exploration of a slippery concept, On Class combines memoir, stories and statistics in excellent journalistic style. Dundas describes the combination of structural barriers and lack of opportunities as well as internalised shame associated with being poor. Despite Canadians’ belief in our social safety net, we still don’t have adequate educational opportunities, health care and wages that allow people decent livelihoods. And of course, class, racism and ableism combine in destructive ways. I’m glad I read this book.
It’s a pithy book on class. It’s strongest moments revolve around the anecdotal stories Dundas relays of individuals she has known or met, drawing on her strength as a reporter. The theorizing of class is adequate, nothing earth shaking. But the book is a good primer if you know relatively little about the concept. I got a little frustrated at some of the repetitive phrasing and anecdotes like the banging of pots and pans in solidarity that’s brought up at least five times in a 35000 word book. Could have used a better editor.
This is a gem of a read - thank you Deborah for writing this book - it’s a true gift for any reader interested in understanding the value and the importance of listening with dignity. The author packs a lot in thirty five thousand words and I would recommend it for anyone volunteering and or working with and for people living on low income or living in poverty. She puts the focus solidly on systemic factors, respectfully shares stories and leaves me reflective.
I have been thinking a great deal lately about my thoughtless (and often insensitive) comparisons between young folks’ struggles now, and my own in the 1980’s. (Were they even struggles?) Dundas does an excellent job of explaining the roles of privilege and support in the “success” of an increasingly smaller elite. This is a thought provoking read on the importance of listening to the stories of those different from ourselves.
At 135 pages this is not an in depth look at class and poverty but it's an excellent start. Mostly deals with how the pandemic affected the poor with some very interesting facts. "The comfort of the rich depends on an abundant supply of the poor" - Voltaire. Would recommend.
Thoughtful, well-researched, well-structured, a good balance of the author's own personal narrative, interviews, and sociological and economic research. Not dry at all—vivid and meaningful and important subjects, given their due. A hard-hitting 140 pages!
An interesting little read. Deborah Dundas does a lovely job of weaving together the personal and the political for a deeper understanding of the fact of ‘class’ deeply informed by research.