Priscilla Parkhurst Ferguson

Editors' Introduction: Mirrors, Frames, and Demons: Reflections on the Sociology of Literature

The sociology of literature, in the first of many paradoxes, elicits negations before assertions. It is not an established field or academic discipline. The concept as such lacks both intellectual and institutional clarity. Yet none of these limitations affects the vitality and rigor of the larger enterprise. We use the sociology of literature here to refer to the cluster of intellectual ventures that originate in one overriding conviction: the conviction that literature and society necessarily explain each other. Scholars and critics of all kinds congregate under this outsize umbrella only to differ greatly in their sense of what they do and what the sociology of literature does. They subscribe to a wide range of theories and methods. Many would not accept the sociology of literature as an appropriate label for their own work; others would refuse it to their colleagues. Nevertheless, every advocate agrees that a sociological practice is essential to literature. For the sociology of literature does not constitute just one more approach to literature. Because it insists upon a sociology of literary knowledge and literary practice within the study of literature, the sociology of literature raises questions basic to all intellectual inquiry. The sociology of literature begins in diversity. The way that it combines the ancient traditions of art with the modern practices of social science makes the very term something of an oxymoron. There is not one sociology of literature, there are many sociological practices of literature, each of which operates within a particular intellectual tradition and specific in-

Eating Orders: Markets, Menus, and Meals*

“Food studies” has arrived. Or so it would seem from the books under review and others that could have been included, many of them published since the third millennium began. Times have certainly changed. Only a few years ago it was commonplace to bemoan the lack of academic respectability for discussions of food. Not so today. As anyone who has leafed through scholarly journals or browsed in general bookstores can attest, the last decade has produced a great number of works related to food in one or another of its many forms—as material object, as symbolic form, as social process. True, most of these works fly the familiar disciplinary colors of economic, social, or cultural history, of sociology or anthropology, of literary criticism, or of more conventional disquisitions on

Eating Together: Food, Friendship, and Inequality

they conflate the project to professionalize a trade or occupation with the growth, development, and even splintering of affiliated MBOs. Perhaps because Mark Warren already wrote Democracy and Association— which is amply cited here—the Hudsons had to throw their net wider as a differentiating strategy. A major strength of this book is the tale that the authors tell about the societal legacy of like-minded individuals aggregating in the face of threat or challenge to promote and protect their endangered domain. Case studies illustrating the social change agency of MBOs are categorized to highlight some of the technological, behavioral, and attitudinal influences of these associations. While generally making the case for the positive social change engendered by MBOs, the authors also provide balancing counter-examples of MBO intransigence leading to discrimination (if the American Accounting Association had been more accommodating, would we still have seen the emergence of the American Society of Women Accountants?) or obstruction (think: AMA and universal access to affordable healthcare). I do have my own instructions on how to read this book to maximize enjoyment. As noted above, ignore the title and stick to the subtitle. While you’re at it, skip the preface. While the preface does contain the so-called methodology, knowing too much about it is likely to induce cries of ‘‘foul!’’ As the authors suggest, the histories of about 400 organizations (non-randomly selected from a universe of at least 150,000), together, offer a picture of the emergence, growth, and function of these associations. The authors make no pretense of systematic analysis and, instead, we get rich, evocative case studies of the development and contributions of a set of tenacious organizations. Finally, use the dictionary definition of ‘‘tenet’’ as ‘‘opinion’’ and substitute the latter word wherever you see the former in the book. The authors have not made solid cases that MBOs are either necessary or ubiquitous, nor have they convincingly demonstrated their function as micro-democracies. They have, however, provided enough provocative illustrations for us to appreciate the value of a research endeavor that attempts to more systematically quantify the assertion that MBOs are agents of social change. Scientific research on that proposition would be a most welcome companion to the Hudsons’ engaging ode to trade, professional, and personal avocation associations.

Inside the Extreme Sport of Competitive Eating

Sociologist Priscilla Ferguson considers competitive eating as an expression of identifiably American connections between abundance and country. Overeating both honors country and transgresses social norms.Sociologist Priscilla Ferguson considers competitive eating as an expression of identifiably American connections between abundance and country. Overeating both honors country and transgresses social norms.

The Sensualization of Flânerie

Abstract Flânerie changed over the nineteenth century. The distant, detached flâneur came alive to sensuality. The sensual flâneur explored street flowers and foods in a Paris altered by urbanization. In Le Ventre de Paris Zola fixes on les Halles to study the sensualization of the city. The painter Claude Lantier is a flâneur who cannot resist the offerings to the senses, especially the ‘lower’ senses of smell, touch, and taste. Entrapped in his sensual flâneries, Claude is unable to complete his painting of les Halles. Zola succeeds. The writer-flâneur uses sensuality rather than being used by it, keeping his distance even as he plunges his readers into the city of sensualized flânerie.