One of Ours

About a year ago I happened to talk with an acquaintance of mine, a teacher of Belles Lettres, and she expressed her distaste for American culture. She said it lacked depth. I replied that I had read several works by Americans and that I didn't find them superficial. At which she insisted, and I asked her if she had ever actually read anything written by an American, to which she replied "Not really". "Not really what? Almost, but not quite, or never?" I went on, feeling terribly nasty indeed, and stated quoting some well known authors. Henry David Thoreau? Herman Melville? Edgar Allan Poe? Henry James? Edith Wharton? "Not really, no." Not even oft quoted poets? Walt Whitman? Emily Dickinson? "Ehm, no."
Then she she said solemnly, "I don't need to know American culture to understand that it's worthless."

This, in a nutshell, is the essence of European anti-americanism. A mixture of ignorance, arrogance, and prejudice. I always thought that to judge a culture you need to know it, at least a bit. But no, why waste time when superciliousness can do your work for you?

I quote this episode because it illustrates a feeling quite common over here. Americans are superficial. They lack depth. They lack complexity. And so, no matter what they do, they're always wrong. Better sit gracefully on a fence than actually do something, it's so vulgar.