Book #11 - Affluenza
Apr. 15th, 2011 03:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
corrielle11. Affulenza by John de Graff, David Wann, and Thomas Naylor
This is a book about consumption. About how economies and lives based around constantly consuming things are both unsustainable and unfulfilling. It was based off of a PBS documentary that aired in the mid 90s, and the book itself wasn't written until the late 90s (just at the Dot Com boom was winding down), so it's a pre-9/11, pre-economic-collapse point of view. So, reading this book at the same time as budgets and financial shenanigans are all over the news provided an interesting counterpoint. Eleven years later, some things have changed. The production and popularity of hybrid vehicles, more of a focus on renewable, clean energy sources in the debate over where and how we get our power... but some things haven't. Especially in the area of the hours people are willing to work and the sacrifices they make in order to have a job (any job) in the current economic climate.
One of the ideas in this book that really got me thinking is the connection between efficiency of production, the quantity of production, and the quality of life and leisure time. Basically, as technological advances made production and other labor-intensive activities easier, there were two paths presented to us (and by "us," I mean society as a whole). Either we could work less and produce the same or a slightly higher amount, or we could work the same number of hours (sometimes more...) and produce lots. We chose the second path, and it seems like we're paying for it personally in terms of stress, depression, and disconnection from family and community. We've paid for it environmentally by creating a ton of waste with all of that production and screwing up who knows how many delicate ecosystems.
They authors suggest that individual, community, and political efforts are all going to be necessary to reverse the trend and change the mindset. I happen to agree with them, and this book got me started thinking about my own relationship with stuff.
I realized that how I relate to things is very dependent on the things you're asking me about. When I want to feel self-righteous and holy, I can tell myself...
- I've owned the black shoes I wear to teach most days since 2000. I bought them for five pounds in... I think it was Salisbury while I was living in England, and I've worn them ever since. They're not flashy, but they're comfortable.
- I don't think I've bought a new pair of jeans in five years. Most of my pants (including my favorite pair) are hand-me downs.
- I've had the same laser printer since I started college in the fall of 1999. It still works beautifully.
- I don't think I paid for a single piece of furniture we own. Our bed was a hand-me-down, as were the couch, the recliner, the chairs, my computer desk, and the office chair. The one rather expensive thing I did buy was my piano, which was a thoughtfully considered purchase that I invested in because I knew it would make me happy and improve the quality of my life.
- I use Rae's old cell phone. Mine finally broke beyond repair last April.
- Some of the glasses in our cabinet are were originally one-use tea containers. (They're shaped like a regular dinner glass, but they came with a sealed lid. We drank the tea and kept the glass.)
- I drive a '98 Camry. It runs well, and I do my best to keep it in good condition. I'll drive it until it wears out, and then I'll get another used car that's been well taken care of.
Most of these choices are the result of being raised by parents and grandparents who grew up without a lot of stuff and have a deep cultural memory of the Depression even if (in my parents' case) they were born long after it was over. For instance... My dad refuses to use the clothes dryer more than he has to. In the winter, the hallway is rigged with an indoor clothes line. And my parents' electricity bill is astronomically low for how big their house is.
However, there are definitely some areas in my life where the pursuit of stuff is more apparent.
- The books. They are my weakness. I probably haven't read about a fifth of the books I own, and they fill at least three floor-to-ceiling bookshelves to overflowing. Others may want guests to be impressed with the sports car in the driveway or the marble in the entry hall. I want the "whoa... you've got a lot of books" reaction.
- If one were to total the amount of money I've spent on ren faire garb over the years, it would be enough for me to live off of for several months. This is one of those areas, though, where I have to say that the price is worth it for the quality of what I got and the years of enjoyment I'm going to get out (in some cases have already gotten) out of those things.
- I have a pair of boots that were extras left over from the PotC: DMC production. I bought them for a costume. They were not cheap.
- I have more things that smell good (candles, incense, burner oils, soaps, and perfumes) than some small shops. If I were to use one of them ever day... I could go for months without repeating.
- I have a Disneyland annual pass. The best one money can buy with parking and no black out days. I'd find a way to cut food costs before I cut that expense.
- I have spent an obscene amount of money on fannish things, when I start to think about it. (Pirates stuff and events, Wheel of Time stuff, Comic Con in general...)
So... I'm not so much immune to affluenza as my version of the disease manifests in a different way. And, I would myopically argue, the seemingly extravagant choices I make are more likely to be connected to experience, to expansion of the mind (the books), and to involvement in community (I consider fandom to be a community...) than to having things because they are flashy or expensive or impressive. (Case in point: I love my copy of Mat's fox and ravens signet ring from Wheel of Time. It's real silver, it looks exactly like I imagined it would, and I paid quite a bit for it. But just as much, I love my copy of the One Ring. It's got some nice weight to it, it fits one of my fingers perfectly, and it came tied to the tassel of a Frodo bookmark that cost me four bucks.)
So... am I perfect? No. But am I running out to buy new shoes just because fashion changed a little? Also no.
This book has definitely made me conscious of my choices and how I spend my time. I realize now that though I may not make a ton teaching community college part time in two different places, it gives me the time to develop relationships, read, write, and do the things that are really important to me that I wouldn't have if I was working a high-powered, high-paying job that calls for seventy hour work weeks. I'd be richer on the surface, but poorer in all the ways I care about.
This is a book about consumption. About how economies and lives based around constantly consuming things are both unsustainable and unfulfilling. It was based off of a PBS documentary that aired in the mid 90s, and the book itself wasn't written until the late 90s (just at the Dot Com boom was winding down), so it's a pre-9/11, pre-economic-collapse point of view. So, reading this book at the same time as budgets and financial shenanigans are all over the news provided an interesting counterpoint. Eleven years later, some things have changed. The production and popularity of hybrid vehicles, more of a focus on renewable, clean energy sources in the debate over where and how we get our power... but some things haven't. Especially in the area of the hours people are willing to work and the sacrifices they make in order to have a job (any job) in the current economic climate.
One of the ideas in this book that really got me thinking is the connection between efficiency of production, the quantity of production, and the quality of life and leisure time. Basically, as technological advances made production and other labor-intensive activities easier, there were two paths presented to us (and by "us," I mean society as a whole). Either we could work less and produce the same or a slightly higher amount, or we could work the same number of hours (sometimes more...) and produce lots. We chose the second path, and it seems like we're paying for it personally in terms of stress, depression, and disconnection from family and community. We've paid for it environmentally by creating a ton of waste with all of that production and screwing up who knows how many delicate ecosystems.
They authors suggest that individual, community, and political efforts are all going to be necessary to reverse the trend and change the mindset. I happen to agree with them, and this book got me started thinking about my own relationship with stuff.
I realized that how I relate to things is very dependent on the things you're asking me about. When I want to feel self-righteous and holy, I can tell myself...
- I've owned the black shoes I wear to teach most days since 2000. I bought them for five pounds in... I think it was Salisbury while I was living in England, and I've worn them ever since. They're not flashy, but they're comfortable.
- I don't think I've bought a new pair of jeans in five years. Most of my pants (including my favorite pair) are hand-me downs.
- I've had the same laser printer since I started college in the fall of 1999. It still works beautifully.
- I don't think I paid for a single piece of furniture we own. Our bed was a hand-me-down, as were the couch, the recliner, the chairs, my computer desk, and the office chair. The one rather expensive thing I did buy was my piano, which was a thoughtfully considered purchase that I invested in because I knew it would make me happy and improve the quality of my life.
- I use Rae's old cell phone. Mine finally broke beyond repair last April.
- Some of the glasses in our cabinet are were originally one-use tea containers. (They're shaped like a regular dinner glass, but they came with a sealed lid. We drank the tea and kept the glass.)
- I drive a '98 Camry. It runs well, and I do my best to keep it in good condition. I'll drive it until it wears out, and then I'll get another used car that's been well taken care of.
Most of these choices are the result of being raised by parents and grandparents who grew up without a lot of stuff and have a deep cultural memory of the Depression even if (in my parents' case) they were born long after it was over. For instance... My dad refuses to use the clothes dryer more than he has to. In the winter, the hallway is rigged with an indoor clothes line. And my parents' electricity bill is astronomically low for how big their house is.
However, there are definitely some areas in my life where the pursuit of stuff is more apparent.
- The books. They are my weakness. I probably haven't read about a fifth of the books I own, and they fill at least three floor-to-ceiling bookshelves to overflowing. Others may want guests to be impressed with the sports car in the driveway or the marble in the entry hall. I want the "whoa... you've got a lot of books" reaction.
- If one were to total the amount of money I've spent on ren faire garb over the years, it would be enough for me to live off of for several months. This is one of those areas, though, where I have to say that the price is worth it for the quality of what I got and the years of enjoyment I'm going to get out (in some cases have already gotten) out of those things.
- I have a pair of boots that were extras left over from the PotC: DMC production. I bought them for a costume. They were not cheap.
- I have more things that smell good (candles, incense, burner oils, soaps, and perfumes) than some small shops. If I were to use one of them ever day... I could go for months without repeating.
- I have a Disneyland annual pass. The best one money can buy with parking and no black out days. I'd find a way to cut food costs before I cut that expense.
- I have spent an obscene amount of money on fannish things, when I start to think about it. (Pirates stuff and events, Wheel of Time stuff, Comic Con in general...)
So... I'm not so much immune to affluenza as my version of the disease manifests in a different way. And, I would myopically argue, the seemingly extravagant choices I make are more likely to be connected to experience, to expansion of the mind (the books), and to involvement in community (I consider fandom to be a community...) than to having things because they are flashy or expensive or impressive. (Case in point: I love my copy of Mat's fox and ravens signet ring from Wheel of Time. It's real silver, it looks exactly like I imagined it would, and I paid quite a bit for it. But just as much, I love my copy of the One Ring. It's got some nice weight to it, it fits one of my fingers perfectly, and it came tied to the tassel of a Frodo bookmark that cost me four bucks.)
So... am I perfect? No. But am I running out to buy new shoes just because fashion changed a little? Also no.
This book has definitely made me conscious of my choices and how I spend my time. I realize now that though I may not make a ton teaching community college part time in two different places, it gives me the time to develop relationships, read, write, and do the things that are really important to me that I wouldn't have if I was working a high-powered, high-paying job that calls for seventy hour work weeks. I'd be richer on the surface, but poorer in all the ways I care about.