Bloomberg by Bloomberg

by Michael Bloomberg, with Matthew Winkler '77
John Wiley and Sons

F or media mogul Michael Bloomberg, success can be boiled down to a simple formula: Will the satisfaction derived outweigh the sacrifices required? When the answer is "yes," Bloomberg puts his head down and plows straight ahead. "I never look back," he says.

Well, almost never. In Bloomberg by Bloomberg, the hard-charging businessman reflects on how his company, Bloomberg L.P., founded fifteen years ago in a tiny temporary office on Madison Avenue, grew into a billion-dollar enterprise that has become the talk of the business world. Along the way, the outspoken Bloomberg shares his views on a myriad of topics, including the future of technology, his idiosyncratic management style, and the importance of philanthropy.

The book was written, as Bloomberg notes, "with invaluable help" from Matthew A. Winkler '77, founder and editor-in-chief of Bloomberg News, one of the cornerstones of the company's media empire. Their relationship goes back to 1988 when Winkler, then a reporter with The Wall Street Journal, began to investigate why Bloomberg's little company was starting to challenge the goliath Dow Jones and Company for dominance of financial news. A little more than a year later, Winkler signed on to begin building Bloomberg News.

"Matt and I share a glass-is-half-full outlook," writes Bloomberg. "He was to become a pivotal character in making Bloomberg a major contender in journalism."

That was not exactly what Bloomberg had in mind when his meteoric fifteen-year career as a securities trader with Salomon Brothers flamed out in 1981. Bloomberg, who made partner after achieving remarkable success as a stock trader, found himself to be one of the odd men out when Salomon Brothers merged with Philbro Corporation. Soothing the sting of his firing was a $10-million payout--in cash.

Bloomberg, a classic Type-A personality, had to be on the move after his forced exit from Salomon Brothers. With his $10 million payout in hand, he asked himself the question: "What did I have the resources, ability, interests, and contacts to do?" The answer led Bloomberg back to Wall Street, where he saw the need for a business built around a collection of securities data that would give people the ability to select what each thought were the most useful parts. Then he would provide the computer software that would let nonmathematicians analyze that information. "This kind of capability was sorely lacking in the marketplace," states Bloomberg, whose last assignment at Salomon Brothers was in computer technology.

He shared his vision with Merrill Lynch and Company, which was interested enough to give Bloomberg six months to build a prototype of his computer system. "Our product would be the first in the investment business where normal people withoutspecialized training could sit down, hit a key, and get an answer to financial questions, some of which they didn't even know to ask," recalls Bloomberg of the salad days of an enterprise that was to grow into a multimedia empire.

Bloomberg and his gang of overachieving computer geeks met that first deadline with Merrill Lynch, although they didn't work out a final software bug until Bloomberg was riding in a taxi on the way to deliver the company's first computer terminal. Once Bloomberg had Merrill Lynch on board, word began to spread about the remarkable utility of the Bloomberg terminal. The company's client list grew rapidly, with a mix of customers that included the Bank of England, every Federal Reserve Bank, and even the Vatican.

With terminals in financial offices around the world, Bloomberg thought it sensible to offer business news along with all the numbers that were being crunched by his computers. Once Winkler joined the company, Bloomberg decided to take on the big boys of textual financial news--Dow Jones and Reuters. Since 1990, Bloomberg News has grown to more than five hundred editors and reporters in seventy bureaus across North America, Europe, and the Far East. The news service is the main content provider for Bloomberg's print and broadcast media. These include the Bloomberg Information Television network, Bloomberg Information Radio, the syndicated TV program "Bloomberg Business News" on PBS, the monthly Bloomberg Magazine, and Bloomberg Personal, a personal-finance magazine.

As a manager, Bloomberg takes an approach that would likely make many in corporate America blanch. There are no partitions in Bloomberg offices, few job titles, and if a top executive wants to park close to the office door he had better be one of the first to arrive at work--there are no assigned parking spaces. Bloomberg demands total loyalty from his employees, but he is also is quick to credit them for making his company a success. This extremely confident entrepreneur believes his design instinct, sales savvy, and management skills are the "best around." However, he is also wise enough to admit "I know what I don't know" and shrewd enough to hire people to be responsible for those aspects of the business.

< There are many lessons to be learned from candid Bloomberg by Bloomberg. In the final analysis, writes Bloomberg, there are three things that separate the winners from the losers in business: time invested, interpersonal skills, and plain old-fashioned luck. As made clear in Bloomberg by Bloomberg, the author has had large doses of all three.

--Jeff Bell. A member of the Bulletin's Contributing Writers Group and a former news director for the College, Bell is a freelance writer in Newark, Ohio.

Aftermath: The Remnants of War

by Donovan Webster '81

T he "Epilogue" to Aftermath begins "To get here, you've had tobrush against a wasteland," and this is indeed a travel book, of sorts--one of the most vividly fascinating travel books you will ever read--yet it is also a trenchant, absorbing essay into the history of the twentieth century. Donovan Webster's thesis is that "the weapons we have warred with, and their effects on the world's landscape and culture, have become our century's most prevalent history," and he develops that thesis through five separate, set-piece and stunning chapters.

The first--a model of expository prose--explains how demineurs (deminers) clear the French landscape of the deadly remains of three wars. Most of their labor necessarily deals with the unexploded ordnance of World War I, which as Webster follows one crew through one "Forbidden Forest," seems to him "more recent--and far more real--than Neil Armstrong's stroll across the moon." The chapter devoted to World War II visits the steppe around Stalingrad which, after fifty years, is still littered with the skeletal remains of all the Axis dead. The Cold-War "landscape" is that of the Nevada Test Site, "1,350 square miles of American desert" that will be "uninhabitable for the next 5,000 years." (A problem: "Since we don't know if our language" or "even our iconography" will be the same fifty centuries hence, how do we warn people more distant from us in the future than Agamemnon is in the past, "Don't dig here?") He tours Vietnam in "Torn Leaf," and in "Eating the Elephant" learns how a commercial mine-clearance company does its business in Kuwait: "In 120-degree heat, walking slowly and shoulder to shoulder all day long until 150 square kilometers has been cleaned up." But the pay is good--for "entry-level workers as much as $90,000 a year"--and the prospects for employment "just go on forever."

In the process of displaying this present-day, world-wide reality, Webster explores the history of the twentieth century at its literal cutting edge: in the development, the functioning, and the physical appearance of its weaponry. For instance, "the principal purpose" of the antipersonnel land-mine "is to maim rather than kill, since an injured infantryman is more burdensome to military support staffs than a dead one." And he depicts the various munitions with mordantly captivating imagery. "Then, a few steps away, jutting from beneath the roots of a tree--its body buried, the cone of its detonator sniffing open air right in front of my face--sits an enormous artillery shell. A shell as big as a beer keg."

The book's present-tense, fresh and informal style is perfectly suited to its subject: Pragmatically ingenious in describing these weapons, while freshly appreciative about the rich variety of the human life they were once designed (and--down to the book's last scene in Utah--still threaten) to destroy: it describes the demineurs' lunches as evocatively as their labors. It is oddly--and brilliantly--anything but depressing.

Likewise, the author's generosity of intellect redeems Aftermath from the politicized or the propagandistic. The chapter on Vietnam, for instance, is deftly balanced between Webster's concern for the human suffering he witnesses, and his awareness that he is witnessing only what a dictatorial regime isdirecting him to witness; balanced as well between the prevailing current estimation that the war saw the triumph of a people who "would endure anything--even starvation and death--to achieve the goal of a united country once again," and the brutal fact that it was also a war "to 'liberate' South Vietnam from democracy."

Above all, this is an endlessly illuminating book. The style is rough-hewn at moments, and occasionally betrays some uncertainty in the small-change of military history--repeatedly confusing, for instance, the "mortar" with the "bomb" that it fires--but this is nonetheless a book that must captivate any student of military history, or any student of human history down through the twentieth century; or, come to that, anyone interested in seeing how, in the words of one demineur, "history intersects with today."

--Perry C. Lentz '64, McIlvaine Professor of English

Soul Train

Carnegie Mellon University Press

In Every Seam

University of Pittsburgh Press
Both by Allison Joseph '88

A member of the English faculty at Southern Illinois University, Allison Joseph is the author of What Keeps Us Here (1992), which won the Ampersand Press Women Poets Series Competition and the 1992 John Zacharis Prize from Emerson College and Ploughshares. Taken together, the poems in these two new volumes, both published this year, comprise, in part, a narrative: the not-oft-told story of growing up black and female in an inner city in the seventies.

Joseph is a confident chronicler of her own turf. She elicits the textures and tastes, the fun and physicality of girlhood in poems that are not ashamed to take as their starting point the ecstasy of ice cream on a hot day, hula hoops, and jump-rope rhymes. In both her subject matter and the easy and direct cadence of her verse, Joseph reminds us that poetry is, at some basic level, about play: word play, child's play, make believe. At the same time, the nostalgia in these poems is balanced by her refusal to patronize or romanticize:

"Raggedy boys and girls,
we loved to see each other
suffer, . . .

Suffer for not being black enough, for being "the cutest girl on the fifth-grade playground," or just from pure malice.

The poems on girlhood give way to others about the awkwardness and pain of adolescence. This overworked topic is refreshed by Joseph's sense of humor, most notably in such poems as "Barbie's Little Sister," which first appeared in the Kenyon Review, or the "Funny Pages" where Joseph wonders about the Archie Comics, "what zone did these cheery freaks occupy."

Anyone who grew up in the seventies will appreciate herallusions to funk, antidrug filmstrips, Soul Train, Shaft, polyester pants, and discos; the truly hip scene she imagines in "Wedding Party," replete with "bridesmaids in orange tulle, groomsmen in light green."

". . . a wedding cake
piled so high in gumdrops
and coconut that no one's
blood sugar level would be safe."

Joseph is not afraid to take on racism, and its sting, in poems that tell of watchful white store owners, uncomprehending classmates (at a college that sounds awfully familiar), and the reaction to an interracial couple:

"The White People Next Door
have children who cannot hide
their curiosity. . . ."

Without letting whites off the hook, she acknowledges the complexity of race relations in a country where her aunts hold a seance to speak with "the glam Marilyn,/the spike-heeled, fingernail-painted Marilyn."

There are love poems, too, with lines that take the reader into a more tender and sensual territory. Although they have their lyric moments, for the most part these are very direct, no-nonsense poems, shorn of metaphor and artifice of any kind. They are sometimes polemical as well. In the face of critics who would silence her, or at least refuse to publish her, Joseph defends the way she writes and what she writes about:

"Come back when you are ready
to learn how to write

Like the rest of us,
when you're ready to admit
all the beauty in the world

around you, finally wise enough
to know nothing you say clearly
can ever matter."

Clearly Joseph takes very much to heart the adage to write about what you know, to tell it like it is. The result is a group of fine, often funny, sometimes fierce poems that ask us to pay attention, to listen and learn.

--Katherine Anderson '82. A member of the Bulletin's contributing writers group, Anderson has most recently published her work in Poetry.

The Days of Wine and Roses are Over

by Daniel C. Kramer '55
University Press of America

D aniel Kramer, a professor of political science at the College of Staten Island, argues that Hugh Carey was an underappreciated governor of New York who has been forgotten much too quickly. In 325 pages, Kramer makes a strong case for the importance of the Carey governorship, and he describes and explains a very complex and interesting American politician.

Kramer is an unabashed admirer of Carey, proclaiming him "brilliant," "honest," and an "outstanding governor," but this is not a hagiography; Kramer candidly describes a flawed person with failures as well as successes during his two terms as governor, from 1974 to 1982. Carey is presented as a flawed manager, careless at public relations, but very strong in policy leadership and pushing his program through the system. The author regularly makes clear his support for Carey's liberal public-policy goals and for his record of fiscal restraint, and he consistently expresses positive judgments of Carey's approach to the governorship and his record in office. Still, this book stands out for its balance and openness to the views of critics and political opponents, who are quoted extensively.

The heart of this book, and the foundation for Kramer's admiration of Carey, is the case of the 1975 fiscal crisis of New York City. One third of the book consists of an analysis of that crisis and an explanation of how the city, state, and national government dealt with it. Other good books have been written on this topic, but none focuses on the central role of Hugh Carey. Kramer is most convincing here in arguing that Carey was the most important and most constructive person involved in steering the city government through quasi-bankruptcy and back toward fiscal viability.

The Days of Wine and Roses are Over is not a biography. There is one short introductory chapter covering Carey's first fifty-five years--most importantly, his World War II service in the Timberwolf Division (along with my father-in-law, Dr. Joseph Robbins P'73). The book analyzes Carey's elections and service as governor, including chapters on several key policy initiatives ranging from the environment to subways and from Medicaid to the death penalty. In addition to this strong focus on policy, Kramer examines Carey as a political executive, from his record as a manager of an administration to leadership of the state Democratic Party and his difficult dealings with the state legislature.

Kramer is at his best in examining the behavior of American politicians. Carey is explained as a very complex personality, intelligent and moody, devoted to his family and thoughtlessly impersonal with much of his staff. I found more interesting how Carey practiced politic, especially in his success at steering solutions to the New York City fiscal crisis through city, state, and national government. Carey skillfully bargains, compromises, and exerts pressure. We see him trying to unite a fractious Democratic Party and lead a state legislature partially controlled by the Republicans. Kramer consistently explains the importance of both personal ties and conflicting political calculations in how politicians shaped the course of events in New York government over Carey's eight years in the governorship.

Readers will gain confidence in Kramer's work from the obvious breadth and depth of his research. Most impressive is the extensive series of interviews Kramer obtained from almost every significant New York politician of this period, from Carey on down, Democrat and Republican alike. He fills the book with on-the-record quotes that often demonstrate candor and thoughtfulness. Kramer displays his own candor and balance in presenting and assessing the conflicting memories and judgments of his many sources.

Every reader will not necessarily conclude The Days of Wine and Roses are Over by joining Kramer in his enthusiastic praise of Hugh Carey, but Kramer surely wins sympathy for Carey by stressing two important themes of political leadership: (1) the distinction between personal popularity and effective performance in office and (2) the challenges of governing in a period of economic turmoil and stagnation. Kramer is certainly convincing in his claim that Carey was forgotten too quickly; we should all be able to agree that the Carey Administration was worthy of this careful and thorough study.

--John M. Elliott, professor of political science

Finding a New Feminism: Rethinking the Woman Question for Liberal Democracy

Edited by Pamela Jensen
Rowman and Littlefield

A mong the many feminisms today, two stand out. One is the familiar feminism of everyday life, the feminism that holds liberal democracy to its core principle of equal rights under the law. Liberal or "equality" feminism begins with Mary Wollstonecraft's rationalist attack on Rousseau's assertion of nature-bound sex differences. Another feminism finds its home primarily in academia, although it seeks to extend its reach to other institutions. This feminism derives in part from Rousseau, accepting sex differences while denying that they are based in nature. In so doing, it rejects any overarching (or underlying) standard against which political claims might be measured: everything, including the personal, is political. "Difference" feminism multiplies the voices of modern political thought that condemn liberalism for its bourgeois and individualist cast.

The new feminism proposed by the authors in Finding a New Feminism begins in dialogue with liberalism. Numbering among them some of the best political philosophy scholars now writing, neofeminists are distinguished by their thorough knowledge of the theoretical underpinnings of liberalism and of liberalism's relations to the foundations of political thought "ancient and modern."

One of the most praiseworthy features of neofeminist scholarship is its practice of showing how thinkers much maligned by earlier feminists illuminate the woman question. This includes Catherine H. Zuckert on Machiavelli's Clizia; Anne Charney Colmo on Rousseau's Emile and Sophie (an excellent translation of which by Alice W. Harvey concludes the volume);Arlene W. Saxonhouse on Aristophanes; and P. Nichols on Aristotle. In each case, a purportedly antifeminist philosopher receives a just, often surprising, reassessment.

Kenyon readers--especially those of us present at the creation of the College as a coeducational institution--will happily learn from the contributions in Finding a New Feminism by one professor at the College and two alumnae. Professor of Political Science Pamela G. Jensen's introduction stands as a valuable overview of core issues feminists now face, as well as a helpful preview of the essays she has gathered. Jensen cogently remarks the "difference" feminist rejection of what it calls the fictive universalities of reason; the practical consequence of this epistemological move is the politicization of all aspects of human life. Jensen shows that liberal thought, conceived by Locke as an antidote to patriarchalism, readily anticipates and explains the emergence of feminism and does so without political reductionism. As a widely recognized authority on Rousseau and Nietzsche, Jensen was, so to speak, born to offer just these insights.

Diana J. Schaub '81, an assistant professor of political science at Loyola College in Baltimore, Maryland, adds to her impressive published scholarship on Montesquieu with an essay on The Persian Letters. Unlike Rousseau, who would ennoble the Machiavellian prince(ess), Montesquieu would tame the prince, in part by leaving space for genuine eroticism. The Persian Letters undermines political despotism by rejecting sexual despotism (one form of the politicization of sexuality) and makes women vital to this liberation, "provid[ing] instruction on how the spectacle of revolutionary bloodshed and suicide might be averted through moderate reform"--a lesson many disciples of Rousseau have needed, and continue to need. Characteristically, Schaub displays a mastery of textual detail given point by ready wit.

Journalist and literary critic Lauren A. Weiner '81 contributes to the book's central essay, the only one that directly addresses American themes. Although Henry James might not be the first American writer one would think of when searching for a new feminism, Weiner rightly coaxes us to think harder, and she proves a genial and judicious guide to James's The Portrait of a Lady. The lady in question, Isabel Archer, conspicuously self-made as Americans are wont to be, collides instructively with a variety of English and continental sorts off her native ground. This Archer or Artemis crucially fails to hit the mark--marrying unfortunately in "a willed attempt to put theory into practice" (and how American is that?). She finally comes to see that neither "masculine" self-assertion nor "feminine" self-sacrifice alone will do, but their combination or marriage will do just fine when expressed in "a will to protect the weak against the strong." The sacrifice a woman makes to do this is social approval. Even Americans, even American women, even an American Artemis, cannot quite escape the problem of Socrates, which is the problem of social disapproval of heterodox activities, particularly of making the weaker argument the stronger.

Neofeminists invite other feminists to political philosophy,the Socratic discovery--Socrates, the student of Diotima and midwife of ideas. That Kenyon women should formulate and enact this new, philosophic feminism should not surprise anyone familiar with what liberal education can be.

--William E. Morrisey '73. A writer, Morrisey lives in Rumson, New Jersey.

The Sex of Things: Gender and Consumption in Historical Perspective

Edited by Victoria de Grazia, with Ellen Furlough
University of California Press

B eginning with its cover reproduction of Barbara Kruger's collage "You are seduced by the sex appeal of the inorganic," the thirteen essays collected and edited by Victoria de Grazia, professor of history at Columbia University, with Ellen Furlough, associate professor of history at Kenyon, explore the histories of what Marxists used to call "commodity fetishism." The contributors, whose essays explore the relationships between consumption and gender in the United States, England, France, Germany, and Italy between the eighteenth century and the present, investigate the erotics through which things such as automobiles, bread, cameras, cosmetics, dresses, movies, pictures, potatoes, suits, vacuum cleaners, and washing machines come to stand in place of social relations, becoming the means by which social identities and status are constituted.

Collectively, the essays argue that the practices by which acts of production, exchange, and consumption came to carry gendered meanings did not arise inevitably from some inexorable force of human nature; rather they had histories that are complex and uneven. The Sex of Things attempts to glimpse some of these histories.

Generally, all the essays work within a feminist paradigm that exposes the underlying assumptions in accounts of consumerism that view production as masculine and consumption as feminine. Masculinity is associated with industry and economy, and in inconspicuous consumption, while femininity is associated with unbridled, profligate, and even dangerous consumption, as well as credit and debt. Since anxieties around the meaning of gender will be most intense at moments of transition, the essays focus on the shift in the eighteenth century from an aristocratic culture in which goods were static symbols representing a stable social hierarchy to more fluid bourgeois models in which goods are constitutive of social identity and status, as well as the slower and more uneven transition within the family in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries from producer households that relied mostly on their own resources and labor to consumer households that rely on the market to supply goods and services.

Yet the contributors also challenge past orthodoxies about consumer culture, providing a much more complex and detailed description of relationship between gender and the development of consumer culture in Europe and the United States than has previously been available. The volume's most salientcontribution to feminist scholarship is its refocusing of the current debate over whether consumer culture has empowered or disempowered women. Some critics have argued that women are the victims of consumerism, constantly duped into a false consciousness by manipulative advertising. Others have insisted that, historically, consumer culture has empowered women by opening up public spaces that had previously been closed to women, freeing them to participate more fully in both cultural and political processes. The contributors seem to agree that such either/or dichotomies greatly simplify the history of consumerism. They are much more interested in presenting the ambiguities and paradoxes of mass consumption in a way that goes beyond a "Manichaean view" that sees consumption as either manipulative or emancipatory.

The essays in this book refocus the question, asking instead how particular "consumption regimes" interact with political systems in an ongoing process of accommodation, resistance, and appropriation. They explore the power of consumer practices to disrupt conventional boundaries and refashion social identities, as well as the potential for co-opting or appropriating these practices for, say, patriarchal ends. The point is that resistance and appropriation are never static choices but ongoing and interactive processes that animate social life; indeed they are the stuff of which the dynamic processes we call "society" and "culture" are made.

Like the best histories, this volume avoids forcing the history of consumption into the kind of progressivist narrative that reads the past only to show how we got here from there. It investigates the discontinuities as well as the continuities of our past, alternative as well as mainstream accounts of the development of consumer culture, strategies for liberation as well as those that enable oppression; it allows historical narratives to be complex enough not only to account for present conditions of mass culture but also to imagine possible futures.

--Laurie A. Finke, professor of women's and gender studies

Textual Bodies: Changing Boundaries of Literary Representation

Edited by Lori Hope Lefkovitz
State University of New York Press

T he body's history in literature is also the history of bodily violation," writes Associate Professor of English Lori Hope Lefkovitz in the introduction to Textual Bodies: Changing Boundaries of Literary Representation. Gathering essays by scholars in a variety of periods and disciplines, Lefkovitz presents both a history of the textual representation of bodies and a history of the consequences of interpreting them.

Lefkovitz frames her collection with an apropos--if grisly--allegory of bodily representation and interpretation. In Judges 17-21, an anonymous Levite man and his woman stop for the night in a Benjamite town. A crowd gathers at the house where the travelers lodge and calls for the Levite, whom they intend to rape. A series of substitutions ensues. The Levite's hostappears before the crowd and offers them his young, virgin daughter. Ultimately, he surrenders the Levite's woman rather than the girl to the townspeople. The next morning, the Levite discovers his woman's corpse. He carries her home to Ephraim and cuts her body into twelve pieces, which he sends to each of the twelve tribes of Israel as a call for revenge.

This episode provides an allegory for the many symbolic meanings that bodies continue to hold in our culture today. Like the Levite's woman, whom social and textual practices define, "the body is figured as both independent subject and subject to subjection, a subject to controlling bodies." In the story from Judges, a series of substitutions transforms a single body: the Levite's woman, identified only by a gendered possessive, becomes a sexualized sign for the political body of a nation. Lefkovitz identifies the scandal of the story as the ease with which the woman's body stands in for the man's, which remains a whole, untouched, able-bodied perpetrator of future violence. This reading also transforms the Levite's story, which becomes an allegory for the violence that comes with the translation of the material body into multiple signs.

Each chapter of Textual Bodies tells part of a story that Lefkovitz calls "the history of bodily violation." Sappho's poems exist only as partial representations. Friar Osbern Bokenham, a medieval hagiographer, records the lives of female saints by describing individual parts of their bodies. Lewis Carroll writes about a female protagonist, and Walter Pater writes as his female subject. In Great Expectations, Kathy Acker gives a postmodern rereading of Dickens's eponymous novel, exposing the difficulty of identifying a single author, a single story, or a single interpretation of the text.

Textual Bodies contributes a work of practical criticism to current scholarship on bodies and transgression, sexuality, textuality, and subjectivity. Each of the contributors rereads familiar texts focusing on corporeal representations. Former Kenyon faculty member Richard Rambuss, now an associate professor of English at Emory University, discusses the themes of devotion and defilement in Chaucer's The Prioress's Tale. Deborah Laycock, associate professor of English at Kenyon, discusses ways in which fashion and the marketplace transform and erase material bodies. She reads The Rape of the Lock among other eighteenth-century texts with reference to the development of the public credit, the legislation of various sumptuary laws, and the preponderance of plagiarism that transformed both women's bodies and men's texts in early modern London.

Former students and readers of Lefkovitz's previous work on beauty and the Victorian novel and treatments of the body within Judaic traditions will recognize in this anthology her continuing concern about the social and literary history of the body. Together, the essays in this anthology pose a series of questions about the ways in which bodies matter to literary history and the ways in which literary history contributes to our understanding of the body.

--Jennifer M. Fishman '94. Fishman is a graduate student in English at Stanford University.

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