The Bookworm: Generation Me

Generation Me: Why Today’s Young Americans are More Confident, Assertive, Entitled — and More Miserable Than Ever Before by Jean M. Twenge. 292 pages. Free Press (Simon & Schuster). 2006.

This is the scenario for young people today: To get a decent job, you must have a college degree, preferably from a good school. It is harder to get into a good college, and more expensive to pay for it. Once you get in and graduate, it is difficult to get into graduate school and sometimes even more difficult to find a job. Once you find a job, corporate downsizing and restructuring create the constant threat of layoffs. By the time you’re in your thirties, career pressures are compounded by the demands of raising children when both of you have to work to pay the bills.

I’m in a race against time. I want to finish the next book in my reading queue, the last of my Iowa City bounty from July, so I don’t have to take it back to IC in 11 days. I had to finish Generation Me today so I can start reading the next book in line tomorrow when I do laundry.

I bought Generation Me at Iowa Book. A lot has been written about my generation and how we differ from our parents and grandparents, but, shamefully, I’ve read very little of it. Not only did I feel obligated to enlighten myself about myself and my peers, but I’m also very curious about who we are as a generation, how we became that way, how we stack up against our ancestors, and why we’re supposedly “more miserable than ever before” despite being more confident, assertive, and entitled.

Twenge, an associate professor of psychology at San Diego State University, spent years browsing the information rich shelves of university libraries for survey data on the attitudes, beliefs, and opinions of children, college students, and adults from as early as the 1930s. Combined with her own survey work, Twenge was able to compare “Generation Me” (a surprisingly large group of people: those born between 1970 and sometime in the 1990s, which includes Twenge herself) to their Baby Boom predecessors.

Twenge paints a vivid picture of GenMe: who we are, what we do, how we feel, what we believe, and the reasons behind it. She shows how our upbringing, our exposure to media, the cultural and personal changes the Baby Boomers fought for and gained, and the way we were taught in school shaped our minds and attitudes, and created the positives and negatives of our generation.

Generation Me is a very informative read. It’s well written; though none of it is too complex for the average person to comprehend, Twenge does an excellent job of outlining her research and explaining what the results mean within the larger context of American culture. I had a difficult time engaging the book when I started reading, probably because I’m accustomed to narrative. But I eventually changed gears and became very interested. After all, in a certain way I’m reading about myself.

The “Generation Me” terminology is Twenge’s invention. Maybe she’s hoping it will catch on, because my generation doesn’t have a widely accepted name. Those of us considered prime examples of GenMe (born in 1982 and afterwards) have been labeled many things: Millennials, Generation Y, and Echo Boomers. In my opinion we don’t need a label — we haven’t fully defined ourselves since we’re just entering adulthood, and I think we should brand ourselves — but I guess many feel it’s necessary to follow in the footsteps of the Baby Boomers and Generation X (which Twenge actually includes in her definition of GenMe). Generation Me is an okay name, but it’s not epic. Our generational label needs to be as unique and individualistic as we are.

Personally, the cover art doesn’t do it for me. I understand the point of the bare mid-riff, belly button piercing, and the iPod in the pocket. But a tramp stamp on the stomach? It doesn’t make sense. I see the thinking behind it — to cleverly utilize an emblem of my generation — but the execution wasn’t well thought. What’s wrong with turning the model around, putting the iPod in her back pocket, and stamping the title tattoo on the small of the back, where it’s almost universally located? A little too much ass? I’d obviously have no problem with a book cover full of ass (assuming it’s nice ass), but apparently the Boomers at Free Press did. (You’ll read all about that if you get your own copy of Generation Me.)

The author is listed as “Jean M. Twenge, Ph.D.” This brings up something that annoys me about academia: a lot of academics like including their middle name or middle initial in their by-lines. Not Jean Twenge, but Jean M. Twenge. I think it reeks of elitism. Adding Ph.D., M.D., or Professor is understandable, but what good does including the middle initial do? Is it supposed to differentiate you from your colleagues that much more? Many authors published in the journals I work for use their middle initial, and I poke fun at them (to myself) when I build issue material. If I ever do this — and I can’t foresee any reason why I would — I should never live down the lapse in humility.

New words I learned: All descriptions via my iMac dictionary. Aphorism: “a pithy observation that contains a general truth, such as, ‘if it ain't broke, don't fix it.’” Contrarian: “a person who opposes or rejects popular opinion, esp. in stock exchange dealing.” Tautological: “the saying of the same thing twice in different words, generally considered to be a fault of style.” Derogate: “disparage (someone or something).” Reify: “make (something abstract) more concrete or real.” Chasten: “(of a reproof or misfortune) have a restraining or moderating effect on.” Paucity: “the presence of something only in small or insufficient quantities or amounts; scarcity.”