Category Archives: academics

Why I’m Never Going to Make It as a Writer

academics, life, writing, , , , ,

Corby Kummer, august senior editor for the Atlantic and one of my all-time idols, thinks my writing is shit.

Fine, he didn’t say it exactly like that.

Kummer was teaching a weeklong writing workshop, and everyone had submitted second drafts of essays on food. One by one, he whisked us into the hallway for individual conferences, then periodically returned to give comments to the entire group. All day, I had a nagging feeling that something was wrong. Why wasn’t my piece being read out loud to the class? Why was it at the bottom of the pile?

Wendy was one of the lucky ones. Her first paper was so perfect that her “revision” was to write another paper.

For the second paper, Kummer told her that he had no comments. It was perfect, again.

I congratulated her on her double win. Then I went back to doing what I do best—worrying while looking happy about it.

Bells tolled. My afternoon stupor was interrupted by Emily’s shoulder tap. “Hey Crystal, he wants to see you.”

In the vending machine alcove, Kummer was marking papers with a vengeance. I glanced at mine, lying on top of a trash can. It looked oddly clean and blank.

“You’re an expert writer, but you’re too self-conscious.”

Kummer looked at me, eyes framed under a furry blanket of hair. He continued.

“I read some of these lines and think, ‘Would you say that in speech?’

“Take this part, where you talk about dropping a lobster into boiling water: ‘The sucker will thrash and create a lively ruckus.’

“It’s like you’re detached and having these self-conscious remarks. You’re so incredibly aware of what you’re doing that it’s distracting. You just sound…Writerly. With a capital W.”

Did I mention that Kummer rejected me for a writing fellowship at the Atlantic three months ago?

I needed to defend myself.

“When you tell me to use monosyllabic words, I feel like it strips away my writing. Maybe I like using long words in daily conversation!”

Kummer gave me a skeptical look. “Shall we go through this piece from the beginning?”

I nodded. I needed to pee.

“You have moments that flow. This part about adding ‘fistfuls of julienned scallions, ginger and garlic’ is nice. Oh, and I can’t believe I missed this the first time—‘Atop a clinical ad seeking sperm donors, I gently placed the cutting board’– that is such a lovely detail.

“This reference to Hades, I just don’t think you would say that in speech. Did you really mean to say that?”

I twitched on the inside.

“Maybe I’ve been reading too much Jane Grigson [a writer who uses lots of classical references]. I don’t know, I was working on this at 6 am.”

“Oh my.”

“Well, it was better than writing it post-party.”

Kummer gave me a look. I am not sure if it was sympathetic or admonishing.

He went on. “Are you familiar with David Szanto? He had the same problem.”

David is a writer who taught at the beginning of the year. He is also a former student at the university, and my go-to advisor for all matters related to writing.

“David used to say, ‘I can write this piece with 3 different tones. What would you like to see? ’

“I guess I want to see you develop a consistent voice. What do you sound like?”

I looked at Kummer and stammered, “Don’t you see? I feel incredible pressure to write whatever you want me to write.”

“But that’s exactly it, I want to hear you.”

I started to cry. God, I hate when I do that.

“What if I am a pretentious person who loves high-falutin language?” I asked.

“You would call yourself a pretentious person?”

“Do you see the shirt that I’m wearing?” I waved at my body. “It says, ‘Bad grammar makes me [sic].’ If you called me pretentious, I would not be offended.”

Kummer’s face wrinkled with a smirk.

“You know, back when I was younger, people called me pretentious too. So I can relate.

“Writers have a way of hiding behind a façade, and you can’t really get to know them. It’s like they have something to protect. They want you to see a certain aspect of themselves, or maybe they’re too embarrassed to show their true selves.

“I want to see who you really are.

“This line—‘stop being a pussy and just kill the damn thing.’ I think that’s you. That’s who I want to hear.

“Now, I really wish I could read more of your writing. I’m curious about what your voice really is. After working with David for a week, I think he really nailed it down.”

He handed me a blue tissue. I wiped my nose less than gracefully.

“You know what, David thinks my writing is great.”

“Of course, I’m not surprised,” Kummer replied.

“I am sorry that I have made you upset.”

I waved him off between sniffles. “No no, it’s all right, I really appreciate your honesty.”

“Okay fine, then I’m not sorry that I made you upset.

“I am being so harsh because I want you to go to that next level.

“I spent half my time copyediting the rest of the class’ papers. In terms of copyediting, this is flawless.

“You’re an excellent writer—you’ve made yourself into one—and you’re ambitious.”

Maybe he was making that up entirely.

I bet he hates that I used the word “august” to describe him in line one.

I don’t care.

Stuart Franklin’s Political Ecology

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Photography: Stuart Franklin

The entry on our school calendar was unassuming and inconspicuous—”Franklin, Journalism.” The description in our student guidebook was even more humble, simply a thin line that read “Stuart Franklin, English photographer.” I glanced at it and the night before, on a lark, I decided to google the name to see Franklin’s previous work. Much to my shock, I soon realized that Franklin was a world-renowned Magnum photographer, the man who had taken the photo of Tank Man in Tiananmen Square. Yes, That photo.

On the appointed day, we eagerly gathered in class, where a bespectacled chap carried himself with distinction to the front of the classroom. “Dr. Stuart Franklin, Political Ecology,” read his first slide. The student next to me poked my shoulder—wasn’t this class supposed to be about journalism? What’s political ecology? Are we sure this Dr. Franklin is a photographer, and not someone else with the same name?

As it turned out, Franklin is a man of many talents, not only a career photographer for Time and National Geographic, but the recipient of a PhD in geography at Oxford University. He now publishes and teaches courses in political ecology and photography at Oxford.

The burning question: what is political ecology? As he defined it, it is the analysis of complex political economic relationships between society and land- or marine-based resources or products. It’s political economy + environment. It’s a network of cultural interactions with the land around them. Food chains and the working conditions of migrant workers are two topics that might fall into this lens of analysis.

Convinced? Skeptical that this is just another newfangled invention of concatenated existing subfields? Regardless, Franklin took us on a fascinating trip around the world, as we looked at slash-and-burn destruction in Indonesia and Afghans fighting in a bread queue, all photographed in pristine condition. The following are some of his thoughts on photography, politics, and the luckiest break of his career.

There was an uprising that spring. A lot of factors were in play, but it was mostly due to increasing flows of information and the large amount of corruption going on. Young people were finally getting annoyed by corruption by people in power, and so they came out to the streets. It was a huge moment for the Chinese to demonstrate, and I asked if I could go to Beijing. My plane ticket was paid for by Magnum, but when I got there, Time put me on assignment and I ended up just staying there.

The epicenter of the action was Tiananmen, and at that point, I had been working as a photojournalist for about 10 years, and I was a pretty hardened war photographer. I knew that I had to get close to Tiananmen, so I found the Beijing Hotel, and I parked myself there.
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Italian for People Who Can’t Legge Bene

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In the months between my acceptance and moving to Italy, I spent a good chunk of time learning Italian through as many venues as possible. I went through three levels of Rosetta Stone. I read Italian blogs and newspapers. I discovered some great Italian films (and some pretty terrible melodramatic, sad-violin ones). Then, I stepped onto my first train in Italy, promptly missed the transfer and ended up in Cuneo. It was about 8 pm on a Mon night, and the trains stop running shortly thereafter. Panicked, I tried to ask the guy across the aisle for help, but all the Italian I’d learned had flown out the window. Luckily, he knew enough English to tell me I had 5 minutes left to catch the last train of the night. Clearly, my Italian still had a ways to go.

For the most part though, I don’t need to know that much Italian for day to day living, other than talking to vendors. All coursework is in English, and Italian classes are not part of the Food Culture & Communications program at the University of Gastronomic Sciences. So, if you are serious about learning Italian, you’d better do it on your own. Alternatively, you can also make your way through a year in Italy by honing your skills at charades, but that is passing up a grand opportunity to learn one of the world’s most beautiful languages.

It is not well-publicized, but the city of Bra actually offers Italian classes for foreigners through the Informagiovani office. The website is not updated to have information on course offerings (of course), but according to this article, there are not only foreign language courses, but also classes on film and computers. You can also sign up for classes in other languages (French). But let’s stay focused. For a mere €12, I signed up for a year-long ISL (Italian as a Second Language) class. Or is that ITL for me?
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An Introduction to Wine Journalism

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Wine journalism. Is it a public service, or simply pretentious nonsense? What forms does it come in? Does anyone pay attention to this stuff anyway? Who is the target audience?

On this gray November day, we were greeted by the warm presence of Richard Baudains, a wine writer for Decanter who has also contributed to the Arcigolo Gambero Rosso guides Vini d’Italia (Wines of Italy) and Vini del Mondo (Wines of the World). He hails from the Channel Islands (an archipelago between England and France), but has spent the last two decades living and drinking in Italy.

There are many opinions on the role of wine journalism, and we examined a series of quotes from wine writers with varying interpretations of the role. There is the Elitist Expert, who wrote, “I’ve been tasting wines now for over forty years and I like to think that through my articles I can help my readers to appreciate the subtleties of one of the finer things in life.” There is the Public Defender, who said, “Do you know how many chemical additives are permitted in a wine by a European food regulation laws? And what about the illegal additives? Wine writers should be raising awareness of these issues.” There is the Writer of Convenience, who commented, “I used to be on the sports page, but I got fed up with all the travelling and staying up all night to file my copy for the morning editions. Wine is great. A very laid back scene and super hospitality.” And naturally, there is the Passionate Amateur, who enthuses, “I just adore wine, in all shapes and forms. I love tasting it and I love writing about it and I want to share my passion for it through my blog.” People write about wine to affirm their own prestige, to express joy, for money, for free, to spread knowledge, to omit it, and for all sorts of reasons in between.
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The Terra Madre Formula: Farmer = Revolutionary

academics, environment, , , , , , , ,



Delegate from the Philippines demonstrates her prowess at balancing objects on her head; Japanese beekeepers gather at the Honey Bar

At the registration for Terra Madre, small pins were passed out depicting the silhouettes of a farmer and a soldier, with an equals sign between them. In many ways, this icon summarizes what Terra Madre is about. It is a gathering of food communities and food producers, and a strategy session on how best to battle the onslaught of industrialized food, environmental degradation and social injustice. (Update: I’ve learned that the pins are from Slow Food Nation, and actually depict farmer = Statue of Liberty. Apparently I glanced at it too quickly.)

The opening ceremony is reminiscent of the Olympics, partly because it takes place in the Palasport Isozaki, an arena built for the 2006 Torino Olympics. Rather than athletes though, the crowd was cheering for farmers, fishermen, chefs and researchers. With much fanfare and applause, representatives from 160 countries paraded into the stadium carrying their nation’s flags. They were accompanied by a youth choir and orchestra that had been set up in the stands, complete with several harps and a marimba. This was followed by a series of speeches by representatives of indigenous peoples, such as the Guaranì of Brazil and the Kamchadal of Russia.

At last, Slow Food founder and figurehead Carlo Petrini took the stage. “The principal custodians of traditional knowledge,” he said, “are the indigenous peoples, the farmers, the women and the elderly, the very categories that today’s institutions and media pay the least attention.” He went on to address the students in the audience. “You have been given a grand opportunity to reconcile science and modern technology with traditional knowledge.” Petrini declared that the conference had officially commenced, as the crowd roared and leapt to their feet. The last time I was in a crowd this excited was at the Obama rally in Chicago on election night.
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Terra Madre and Salone del Gusto

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Tomorrow marks the opening of one of the sustainable food world’s most prestigious events, Terra Madre (or “mother earth”). This is a biennial conference sponsored by Slow Food since 2004, a meeting of farmers, chefs, producers, researchers, students, and other people who want to revolutionize the way we feed ourselves. Over the next five days, 8.000 people from 150 nations will gather in my backyard (Turin) to share ideas, make new friends and revel in the solidarity that we may be few but strong.

Simultaneously, Salone del Gusto will be happening next door to Terra Madre. This is a food fair for artisanal producers to demonstrate and market their wares. About two-thirds of exhibitors hail from Italy, and the remainder will be coming from all over the rest of the world. There are also chef demonstrations, lectures and tasting workshops on everything from Sámi cuisine (think Nordic wild berries, reindeer and elk), to the Vermouths of Catalonia.

For my part, I have volunteered as part of the University of Gastronomic Sciences audio/visual troupe. Our scrappy crew of nine students will divide into teams of three, and float between the buildings to document university-run and youth movement events, interview students and capture the zeitgeist of the conference. The hours will be long (on Saturday, it looks like I’ll be on the job from 9 am to 9 pm), but the rewards will be substantial. Besides, I have always wanted to learn about filmmaking, so here is my relatively low-stress chance to get acquainted with neutral density filters and techniques of cinematography. Did I mention that the a/v troupe meetings have been almost entirely in Italian? Vocabulary that I never thought I would need to know in Italian: frames per second, diaphragm aperture. Did you know that in the US video is generally recorded at 30 fps, while in Europe video is captured at 25 fps? Me neither. We plan to cut, edit and post clips at the end of each day, so maybe some of my footage will make it online in the next few days.

I am also co-hosting a tasting workshop at Salone del Gusto with UNISG President Carlo Catani. The workshop is titled “New Orleans in a Cocktail,” and our guest will be Chris McMillan, one of the founders of the Museum of the American Cocktail, and bartender at Uncommon Bar in the Renaissance Père Marquette hotel in New Orleans.

Anyway, the following is a video from the 2008 conference (not created by UNISG students) that gives you a taste of the global circus that is about to descend upon Torino:

[vimeo vimeo.com/4417753]