“Une Generation Derniere!”
Posted on 18. Nov, 2009 by Eric Chianese in The Last Generation
Hello, Gainesville.
So, this new bloooooooooog thing. I always thought of myself as more of an ink-and-paper man, but they tell me I need to get with the times. Here is a feeble effort in that direction.
Why title this thing of ours The Last Generation? Well, sit right down, kids, and I’ll lay it on the line. I assume most of you are familiar with The Lost Generation, but for anyone who wants a refresher, I’ll try break to it down old-school (oh yeah, I said it) without sounding like a 20th Century American Lit prof.
The Lost Generation was the generation immediately after WWI–afloat in an indifferent world, stripped of their pre-war, Victorian morality and–blah, shit, okay, that sounded like the Lit prof.
Trying again: The phrase comes from something crazy old Gertrude “Rose is a rose is a rose” Stein said to Ernest Hemingway, describing his rough-and-tumble band of hard-drinking writers and artists in 1920s Paris. They lacked direction, in some sense, and pounded back the highballs and the absinthe to make up for it. They gave us Gatsby, The Sun Also Rises and lots more. You want some information on them? Go here or consult Dr. Stephanie Smith in the English department. I’m moving right along.
Which brings me to us–The Last Generation. I guess a generation could be the last one in a lot of ways. We’re moving into a brand new day, ladies and gentleman, and I think it’s that fact that gives us the dubious honor of being The Last Generation. The trends are already in the air. For example, I saw a 7-year-old texting the other day. Now please, tell me, who the hell is a 7 year old texting and–if you can answer that–what the hell is she texting about. “Hey! Let’s play later!” Is that really worth a texting plan? Or, better, there was a nifty little conversation I overheard between two girls outside of Library West about a week or two ago.
Girl 1: Well, what do you think? How are things going with him?
Girl 2: I’m not sure. I mean, I know his parents really like his ex but…you know…they were never facebook official, so it doesn’t really count.
Honest to God, has it come to this? We all live plugged into our ear-buds and glued to our cell phones and hey–that’s great–the wonders of technology and all that. But we miss out on a lot because of it. I’ll bet somebody my first-edition This Side of Paradise that that 7 year old will never, of her own volition, make a piece of art, read a great book or contribute something of value to the human soul. Basically, our generation represents, to my mind, the last real shot at The Great American Novel and the making of real, genuine Art.
This blog is not going to be a neo-Luddite rant by any means. It’s more like a flaming viking ship, where we all have to get our jollies in before we die. Or maybe it’s like a lone voice of protest on an empty battlefield, with just one bullet in the gun. Maybe it’s me typing on my computer. Whatever. In this first entry, anyway, I just wanted to extend a greetings to all you wonderful readers out there (keep reading, our else I’ll have to find a new gig) and lay out the barest of bones regarding what the hell I intend to talk about. I’m going to sign off now because I’m sure your attention span is starting to get depleted (I know mine is) but let me leave you with one little gem. This is brought to you courtesy of Spencer Tracy playing Henry Drummond (read: Clarence Darrow) in the excellent film Inherit the Wind:
Progress has never been a bargain. You have to pay for it. Sometimes I think there’s a man who sits behind a counter and says, “Alright, you can have a telephone, but you lose privacy and the charm of distance.” “Madam, you may vote, but at a price. You lose the right to retreat behind the powder-puff or your petticoat.” “Mr., you may conquer the air, but the birds will lose their wonder and the clouds will smell of gasoline.”
Words to consider, at the very least. And now I’m off, going gently into that good night.
On tap for next time: Why they call us Generation Y, a further exposition on our Life and Times and, if you’re lucky and I’m lucky, maybe I’ll work some writing into it, too.
Here’s looking at you, kids.
EC
You should definitely keep up with this Eric, it’s very entertaining. It’s sad that kids know how to text at an age when I didn’t even know what a cell phone was, and that relationships aren’t considered real unless facebook says so. I never really thought of us as being the “Last Generation” but it definitely makes sense.
I like this. insightful.
The last generation is still in danger of disappointing themselves, though.
You know GenX says the same thing about us, right? When the photograph became viable it was supposed to be the end of painting and therefore the end of art. Much of the time, art is created around technology, technology doesn’t kill art. The whole point of postmodernism is that nothing is the last anything, everything is recycled, we have every technological resource that the present has been built on and then some. Sure, a lot of people abuse it, like many Facebookers, but there are just as many “real artists” working with it, as well. Look no further than Roger Bebe at UF, he uses antiquated and state-of-the-art technology, often in the same film, and makes amazing art. The emergence of Twitterature doesn’t signal the end of literature, it just adds one more tool to the postmodern box–it’s just a rather useless tool, is all. Useless tool may be an oxymoron. The end.
I’m not sure who you are, or why I’m here… but I like you. I hope to hear more on the depressing state of our generation and the decline to a lesser (in my opinion) culture. I mean why should I apologise for valuing Dorian Gray over facebook? Bookmarked.