Hierarchy In America Research Articles

Hierarchy in America

Religious commitment, support for the military and free‐market capitalism, and aversion to the welfare system, homosexuality and ‘big government’ are all attitudes widely shared among conservative Americans. Apparently unrelated, these views reflect an unrecognized but real ideological embrace of hierarchical understandings: to wit, power comes from above, exchange relations with powerful entities are the means for bettering one's circumstances and such relations are predicated on differences among parties. God, military and political leaders and the captains of industry all constitute personalized nodes of power to whom subordinating oneself offers chances for advancement. Government, by way of contrast, constitutes an impersonal force liable only to take someone's liberty and money and give no return. Adherence to hierarchical assumptions explains support for illiberal leaders in the US and beyond.

Books for Idle Hours: Nineteenth-Century Publishing and the Rise of Summer Reading

Donna Harrington-Leuker, professor of English at Salve Regina University in Newport, Rhode Island, has written a detailed, thoroughly researched overview of the development of summer reading as an American phenomenon, something that most of us simply take for granted today. Utilizing a wide variety of primary documents, including publishers' records, book reviews, diaries and correspondence of readers, and the popular novels of the period themselves, she demonstrates that the concept of “summer reading” was a consequence of the rise of the middle class in the nineteenth century, with the accompanying concepts of summer travel and summer leisure. Of particular note is her consideration of the educated African American elite and the summer resort communities that catered to their needs.The work illuminates the role of nineteenth-century periodicals in marketing summer reading to vacationers and, in particular, to female vacationers, presenting it as a “genteel performance” (41) taking place in a gendered space under the gaze of marriageable males. Harrington-Leuker also reveals the cultural work of the American summer novel, exploring individual authors and titles in depth. She clearly demonstrates how the early American summer novel, set in summer resorts and “ostensibly about summer leisure … became a narrative of self and society at a transitional moment in nineteenth-century culture.” This section is perhaps the least successful, as it requires a familiarity with those authors and titles and she admits herself that most of them have passed into obscurity, Louisa May Alcott being a notable exception. Her “blood-and-thunder tales” are presented as an example of the way that “the season's saturnalian possibilities … remained a part of the public discourse of summer.” Apparently, what happened at the summer resort stayed at the summer resort.Of particular interest to library historians will be the section on the role of space and place in American Victorian summer reading, including as it does descriptions of social and solitary summer reading, and the establishment of libraries at hotels and summer resorts. These include the Athenaeum library at Saratoga and the library at the Poland Spring resort in Maine. Other than a fascinating mention of guests at various resort communities hosting fundraisers for the local public library, there is no consideration of the public library and summer reading, although the public library does appear in many of the diaries and letters that she cites. Rounding out the volume is a chapter on the Chautauqua Assemblies, other summer schools, and the Catholic Reading Circles, which bear witness to the continuing tension between the desire for light, leisurely summer reading, and the cultural pressure for self and social improvement through reading “the best books.”The book is of interest to anyone interested in the social and cultural history of reading in the United States. It fills a gap in the current literature on print culture in nineteenth-century America in regard to popular fiction. While works such as Sarah Wadsworth's In the Company of Books: Literature and Its “Classes” in Nineteenth-Century America and Lawrence W. Levine's Highbrow Lowbrow: The Emergence of Cultural Hierarchy in America include popular fiction among the topics they explore, Harrington-Leuker's is the only work devoted specifically to popular fiction and to summer reading and to the role of the publisher in that phenomenon. It provides a background to works such as Joan Shelley Rubin's The Making of Middlebrow Culture, which focus on popular fiction, book club, and reading groups in the twentieth century. It also creates a need for additional works on summer reading in the nineteenth century that would approach it from different perspectives. Certainly there is room for additional work on African Americans and summer reading, as well as the previously mentioned public library and summer reading, and, of course, for the history of children and their summer reading beyond their participation in library summer reading programs.

Migration, Regionalism, and the Ethnic Other, 1840-1870

This article shows accounts of Norwegian immigrants and their encounter with various ethnic groups in America including Native Americans, African-Americans, Chinese, Irish, and Yankees in the period between 1840 and 1870. The article presents several regions in the United States, namely the Upper Midwest, Texas, and California. The use of primary source material including newspapers, guidebooks and letters provide good insights into thoughts and attitudes, and not the least prejudice, among this Old immigrant group toward the ethnic “Other.” The Norwegian immigrant group aimed at becoming good citizens through a negotiating process between the group, the dominant native-born American group and other ethnic groups in the United States. By characterizing several other ethnic groups based on race, Norwegian-Americans employed whiteness in a double negotiation, both tied to the creation of a Norwegian-American identity and in finding their place in the social hierarchy in America.

Uncle Tom’s Cabin on the American Stage and Screen by John W. Frick (review)

FRICK, JOHN W. Uncle Toni's Cabin American Stage and Screen. New York: Palgrave/MacMillan, 2012. 308 pp. $100.00. Unlike Sarah Meer's Uncle Tom Mania: Slavery, Minstrelsy, and Transatlantic Culture in 1850s (2006), John W. Frick's recent study focuses squarely dramatic adaptations of Harriet Beecher Stowe's Uncle Tom s Cabin produced in United States from novel's publication as a book in 1852 to roughly 1932. The first and more compelling half of his study analyzes two most influential adaptations of Stowe's (the 1852 George Aiken and H. J. Conway productions) and offers a wealth of historical and biographical detail regarding many theatre venues, entrepreneurs (including P. T. Barnum), managers, playwrights, and actors who brought Stowe's to life for antebellum audiences. For literary scholars, primary benefit of this section is how clearly it contextualizes intersection between Uncle Tom's Cabin and an ascendant theatre genre: moral reform drama. Drawing upon David S. Reynolds's notion of a mixed text (one that articulates contradictory messages and ideological tendencies), Frick shows how success of Uncle Tom s Cabin on both page and stage (18) derived from its investment in such popular entertainments as minstrelsy (the legendary T. D. Rice performed role of Uncle Tom more than one occasion) even as it helped to re-gender and recreate theatre as a bourgeois social space. (Oddly, in this regard, Frick doesn't incorporate Lawrence Levine's important discussion of theatrical sacralization of culture in Highbrow/Lowbrow: The Emergence of Cultural Hierarchy in America [1990]). Within this cultural context, though, Frick persuasively argues that even Aiken script--the one that hewed most closely to Stowe's antislavery message--significantly undercut her Christian and sentimental rhetoric by excising abolitionist characters that appeared in novel and simplifying those remaining characters most closely associated with indictment of slavery and by treating clinically scenes of great emotion (59). Furthermore, Aiken and subsequently many other playwrights foregrounded male characters of and minimalized stories of Eliza, Tom, Eva, Ophelia, Topsy, and Cassy (reducing Ophelia, for example, to cliched old maid and Topsy to the butt of ridicule in play [60]). The cumulative result, Frick concludes, is that Stowe's was masculinized antebellum even as moral reform drama movement made it respectable for genteel women to attend theatre. …

Rethinking the Creation of Cultural Hierarchy in America

vol. 6, 2014 Copyright © 2014 The Pennsylvania State University, University Park, PA The year 2013 marked the twenty-fifth anniversary of the publication of Lawrence Levine’s Highbrow/ Lowbrow: The Emergence of Cultural Hierarchy in America. The book was immediately, and wildly, influential among American cultural historians and students of American literature. I remember attending a national meeting shortly after it came out where participants reverentially invoked Levine’s key terms and assumptions, as if they had discovered in the book’s pages an explanation, deeply satisfying both ideologically and emotionally, for a phenomenon that had long been troubling them. In the years since 1988, Highbrow/Lowbrow has exhibited the staying power of a classic, a status certified by the book’s appearance on countless syllabi and oral exam lists. Today it remains available in paperback and in a Kindle version, and I am told that a French edition was just recently published. Many of us have profited a great deal from Levine’s study, and we lament his untimely death in 2006. Yet those of us who have been working in the history of the book and related areas have arrived at a point where we might profitably reassess the arguments of Highbrow/Lowbrow, instead of merely appropriating its framework. What have we learned over the last twentyfive years about cultural hierarchy in America? What Rethinking the Creation of Cultural Hierarchy in America

Editors' Introduction

Editors' Introduction

Lawrence Levine. Highbrow/Lowbrow: The Emergence of Cultural Hierarchy in America.

Lawrence Levine. <i>Highbrow/Lowbrow: The Emergence of Cultural Hierarchy in America.</i>

Polish-American Catholicism: A Case Study in Cultural Determinism

is lamented Bishop Ignatius F. Horstmann of Cleveland, only the Poles cause trouble?1 The bishop's exasperated query reflected the frustration of many in the Roman Catholic hierarchy in America who were weary from years of disagreement, dispute, and dissent within not only the Polish ethnic laity but their clergy as well. To many in the hierarchy the fractious Poles were at best a constant nuisance, at worst a seriously insubordinate group of insurgents who refused to accept legitimate ecclesiastic authority. But why was it, as the bishop asked, that the Poles caused so much trouble? Why not the Italians, the Irish, or the many other peoples who maintained the Roman Catholic faith in their adopted land? Why the Poles? Historians long ago identified many reasons why people chose to migrate, dividing these into push and pull factors those that caused the immigrants to decide to leave their native land and those that beckoned them to a particular place as their new home. Among the push factors that motivated people to leave their original lands were a spectrum of negative issues such as wars, crop failures, famines, epidemics, unemployment, lack of religious or personal freedom, political or cultural repression, and forced military conscription. Perhaps because these reasons are considered negative, as motivations that force people to migrate rather than opportunities that summon them to a better life, historians long believed that the experience of immigrants in America was largely shaped by the traumatic upheaval in their lives occasioned by leaving all that was familiar behind them to move to a land that was foreign in nearly every sense. Oscar Handlin, a leading exponent of this interpretation, titled his pioneering work The Uprooted, a perfect description of the work's focus on the social disorganization that he saw attending people torn from their traditions and values, thrust into a land whose culture was as alien as its language, and

The Price of Whiteness: Jews, Race, and American Identity (review)

ERIC L. GOLDSTEIN. The Price of Whiteness: Jews, Race, and American Identity. Princeton, N. J.: Princeton University Press, 2006. p. xii + 307.Racism is repugnant. But is race? Sophisticates dismiss it as no more than a social construction, a figment that lacks a decisive biological basis; and Jews have been among the many groups denying that race should be applied to them. Racism should have been thoroughly discredited long before it was buried in the rubble of the Third Reich; at least in the United States, such bigotry had by then ceased to be entirely respectable. But as Eric L. Goldstein demonstrates in this judicious foray into American intellectual history as well as American Jewish history, race itself was an idea that proved to be not only elusive but nearly inescapable, not only enigmatic but vexingly resilient. For all the terrible mischief that it has caused, Jews themselves could not quite disenthrall themselves from its power, because so many of them ascribed their loyalty to one another to their blood and not merely to a shared religion. Disraeli, who worshipped as an Anglican, was wrong in proclaiming that race trumps every other historical principle. But nothing better illustrates the sort of complications that The Price of Whiteness illumines than the frequency with which he was taken for a Jew - by other Christians as well as by (his fellow?) Jews.Goldstein s account opens in the last third of the nineteenth century, when the division of humanity into races was a pervasive and influential ideology (hardly limited to Disraeli), when white supremacists were extending their legal as well as cultural hegemony in American society, and when masses of Eastern European immigrants were pouring through the gates to transform the Jewish community. For the first time in Western history, a significant Diaspora community had located itself in society where another minority was more stigmatized-indeed, far more despised, and dehumanized. In 1885 Mark Twain published a novel in which a steamboat accident is reported. Anybody hurt? Aunt Sally asks. in, Huck Finn replies. Killed a nigger. Well, it's lucky, she retorts, because sometimes people do get hurt.If Jews in such a society had the formidable advantage of being white, they also wrestled with the paradox of being not only white. In Victorian America race and color were not yet synonymous (as they would be a century later), so that in an 1887 sermon, for example, the Reform Rabbi Solomon Schindler of Boston s Temple Israel could assert his membership in the Jewish race. Compared to non-Jews, he announced, our temperament, our tastes, our humor . . . our views and . . . our mode of thinking in many cases [distinguish us] as much as we differ in our features (quoted on p. 11). No wonder then that nativists could pick out disagreeable inherited traits with which to stereotype Jews (from avarice to effeteness, from physical ugliness to spiritual sterility) and could express doubt whether such a race could be absorbed into America. Rabbis like Schindler, plus other communal spokesmen (editorialists, educators, social scientists), joined the conversation and claimed that the Jews were a race that harbored memories, ideals, interests, and allegiances of their own. If Jews were denied a destiny that was singular and were required merely to be attached to the dominant race, such communal figures wondered whether whiteness did not exact too high a price. Hierarchy in America was so evidently color-coded that Jews could readily see the value to whiteness. Its price, however, was also apparent; and Goldstein s book is most intriguing in showing how equivocal and varied was the Jews' effort-from the late nineteenth century down to the present - to define themselves.Too rigorous a categorization in terms of race-and Jews implied that they could not be smoothly integrated into America, that they were inassimilable. Too loose a definition-and the sense of separateness might be forfeited, and the viability of a continuous communal life might be imperiled. …

“The long fetch of history”

TWENTY YEARS AGO, LAWRENCE LEVINE--esteemed cultural historian and winner of MacArthur genius fellowship--described his colleagues' nervous laughter when he classified certain popular entertainers as great artists. Levine asked himself why it mattered so much to distinguish between and and he set out to discover when the categories crystallized in the United States and whose interests they served. The result was Highbrow/Lowbrow: The Emergence of Cultural Hierarchy in America. The book zeroes in on mid-nineteenth-century phrenology, which measured cranial dimensions to establish hierarchy of racial types, from the high brows of European Caucasians to the low brows of alien races: Coombs' Popular Phrenology of 186s typically illustrated the domed forehead of Shakespeare against the flat-headed skull of A Cannibal New Zealand Chief (Levine 222). As the century wore on, that distinction was increasingly wielded by class of old stock Anglo-American gentlemen who sought to shore up their privilege in the face of threats posed by galloping immigration, industrialization, and technology. Levine closely documents how this class succeeded in fissuring what had been a rich shared public culture, removing Shakespeare, symphonic music, opera, and the fine arts to pantheon of inaccessible high culture (9). Other scholars of the late-nineteenth-century U. S.--such as Ellen Gruber Garvey, Kathy Peiss, and Richard Ohmann--have traced parallel power relations in struggles between established middle--class book publishers and the makers of mass magazines, in the gendered division of commercialized leisure, and in the commodification of audiences by advertisers. 'The eastern establishment sought both to distance itself from and to control this new mass culture marketplace, and new class alignment--sometimes named the professional-managerial class--emerged. Repeatedly, the cultural categories which crystallized in this period--highbrow/lowbrow, literary/commercial, elite/mass, serious/popular--served to widen the gap between us and them. In period which saw the collapse of Radical Reconstruction, the attempted genocide of Indigenous peoples, the violent suppression of labour action, and the first wave of women publicly agitating for suffrage, these categories did crucial cultural work. They naturalized the hierarchies of race, class, and gender, and their divisions underwrote other forms of segregation. Some, of course, refused such distinctions and their own relegation within the cultural hierarchy. S. Alice Callahan (Muskogee)--currently identified as the first Native American woman to publish novel, Wynema (1891)-used the popular sentimentalism associated with white middleclass women to launch an excoriating attack on the genocidal policies and practices of the government of the day. In the same period, African-Americans across the country did an end-run on the white monopoly on publishing and distribution, seizing the new tools of mass publishing for their own ends. The Colored Cooperative Publishing Company in Boston, James McGirt in Philadelphia, and Sutton Griggs in Tennessee all produced and marketed popular magazines and books to Black communities, heroizing African-American and mixed-race figures and raging, in their various ways, against racial inequities. Along the fault lines and colour lines of cultural hierarchy, such creative forces marshaled solidarity and resistance. What has all this, an argument from U.S. studies, to do with our position as academics, in Canada, right now? Ohmann argues that mass culture emerged hand in hand with the modern research university, each shaping and serving the other. To simplify his argument: the new universities trained the professional--managerial class which shaped and consumed the new commercial culture which, in turn, helped corporate capitalism to find stability in the economic chaos of the post-bellum U. …

Shakespeare and the American Nation

The combination of Shakespeare and American Studies has recently proven to be fertile ground for scholarly inquiry. In Shakespeare and the American Nation, Kim C. Sturgess shows that the subject has not yet been exhausted. Following the work of Lawrence Levine's Highbrow/Lowbrow: The Emergence of Cultural Hierarchy in America (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1988) and Michael D. Bristol's Shakespeare's America, America's Shakespeare (New York: Routledge, 1990), Sturgess's intriguing book examines how nationalistic appropriations of Shakespeare accorded him the status of a hero in American culture in a climate of strong anti-British sentiment.

Adapting Stella Dallas: Class Boundaries, Consumerism, and Hierarchies of Taste

In her 1961 autobiography, Olive Higgins Prouty reflected that [t]he feature of most interest about Stella Dallas is, I think, number of its reincarnations. First serialized for nearly two million readers of American Magazine in 1922 and published in book form in 1923, Prouty's poignant tale of class hierarchy and maternal sacrifice went on to become a 1924 stage play, a 1925 silent an Oscar-nominated 1937 film starring Barbara Stanwyck, and a long-running radio soap opera. Indeed, Stella outlived her creator, reappearing in a third film starring Bette Midler in 1990. Yet to Prouty these adaptations, filled with melodrama and sentimentality, were something of an embarrassment: How much better if Stella had never emerged from covers of a novel. Certainly adaptation of Stella to stage and screen and finally radio did not help me to acquire kind of reputation I desired (Pencil Shavings 156). It is doubtful, however, that avoiding mass media would have spared Prouty from being, like so many popular and critically acclaimed women novelists of 1920s and 1930s, relegated to dustbins of history by a masculinist, modernist establishment. (1) Arguably, Stella and her creator have been remembered only because of these adaptations: while novel went out of print for nearly four decades, 1937 film remained in circulation and was elevated to canonical status by feminist scholars in 1980s as an exemplary woman's film, a powerful alternative to Hollywood's male gaze. Only since its 1990 reprinting as part of a literary cinema classics series, illustrated with stills from has Prouty's novel gained a modicum of scholarly attention. (2) My concern here is less to establish Prouty in canon than to examine what novel and its reincarnations reveal about evolving discourses of class, taste, and cultural hierarchy in America. The adaptation and reception history of Stella Dallas provide a particularly valuable case study not only because Prouty's comment so clearly exposes intense anxieties centered on boundary lines of literature and mass culture but also because Stella's story is so explicitly and centrally concerned with issues of taste and class distinction. In all versions, Stella Dallas depicts in excruciating detail difficulties faced by a working-class woman who marries above her station. Rather than living happily ever after, in Cinderella fashion, Stella quickly alienates her husband with her flashy dress, coarse manners, and lowbrow tastes, and they separate. Although daughter of this mistaken marriage grows up beautiful and refined, it soon becomes clear that Stella's hopeless vulgarity threatens her daughter's social chances. (3) When Laurel loyally refuses to leave her mother to live with her father and his elegant new wife, Stella drives her away, destroying girl's respect by pretending to love a boorish alcoholic whom Laurel loathes. Stella ends up alone and anonymous, but glowing with maternal pride, standing in a dark, rainy street to glimpse through a distant window spectacle of her daughter's new life (in novel, her debut; in films, her wedding to a wealthy young man). Even after being reunited with her married daughter in radio serial depicting the later episodes in life of Stella Dallas, Stella continued to struggle to reconcile her devotion to Laurel with what program's announcer daily described as the differences in their tastes and worlds. (4) The long popularity of this tale suggests that American mass culture throughout first half of twentieth century--particularly those genres created by and for women--was far more attuned to, even obsessed with, intricacies of class distinctions and barriers than usually acknowledged by our myths of America as a classless society. Yet, as story was repeatedly reinvented in new periods and media, we can observe significant shifts both in ways that class distinctions are defined and in degree of sympathy given to Stella's aspirations. …

Use and Abuse of Race and Culture: Black‐Korean Tension in America

ABSTRACTSTensions between African American residents and Korean immigrant merchants in inner‐city neighborhoods have occurred in several cities, culminating in the 1992 Los Angeles riots and uprising. The media sees this conflict as racial, while black and Korean community leaders explain it in terms of cultural differences. Meanwhile, scholars emphasize economic factors. Each of these explanations fails to uncover the central role of white racism in this conflict and the underlying racial hierarchy in America (white‐Asian‐black).

Prep School and Public School Graduates of Harvard

French sociologist Pierre Bourdieu |4, 5~ has developed what he calls a theory of reproduction. In his view, those in power do not merely pass on their material wealth, or economic capital, to their offspring (though they do this), they also try to assure that their children acquire what he calls and Cultural capital consists of various forms of knowledge, dispositions, and skills. For instance, in a society that has very few literate members, knowing how to read and write gives one an enormous advantage over those who are illiterate |5~. Similarly, in a culture that depends increasingly on computers, those with early training in sophisticated computer skills may have valuable advantages over those who do not |26~. Social capital refers to benefits of knowing people who can be of help to one -- what in earlier times was referred to as making connections and, more recently, often referred to as networking.'' Bourdieu writes that social capital is often indispensable if one desires to attract clients in socially important positions.'' It our contention that Bourdieu's concepts are useful theoretical constructs for explaining differences that have been observed between public and prep school graduates and for predicting other differences. For example, studies from 1920s through early 1950s demonstrate that graduates of public schools outperformed graduates of private schools in their college academic work |12, 21, 22, 23, 29~. This, we believe, reflects that more effort was invested by public school graduates than by private school graduates in order to accumulate cultural capital through academic achievement. Because public school students were more likely than graduates of elite boarding schools to be upwardly mobile, doing well in college provided them with valuable cultural capital. The graduates of private schools, who were more likely to come from upper-class families, put more energy into accumulation of social capital than public school student. For those already at top of class structure, relationships with others who will hold power are likely to be much more important than doing exceptionally well academically. In previous studies, we have applied Bourdieu's concepts to undergraduate and postgraduate careers of public school and prep school graduates who attended Wesleyan, Yale, Mount Holyoke, and Smith in 1960s, 1970s and 1980s |33, 34~. We found that at those four colleges graduates of public schools continued to be more likely than graduates of private schools to be elected to Phi Beta Kappa. At two men's schools, Yale and Wesleyan, graduates of prep schools, and especially graduates of elite prep schools, were more likely than public school graduates to have been members of socially prestigious societies (at Yale, Skull and Bones, and at Wesleyan, The Mystical Seven) |33~. When we looked at experiences of Yale graduates twenty-five years after they had graduated, we found that public school graduates were more likely than prep school graduates to have earned higher degrees that provided them with credentials necessary to work in certain professions (for example, medical, legal and doctoral degrees). In contrast, we found that graduates of prep schools and, especially, elite prep schools, were more likely to have joined prestigious social clubs and that they were more likely to have entered occupations in which social capital would be especially useful (for example, business) |34~. Though Wesleyan, Yale, Mount Holyoke, and Smith are all highly selective schools, Harvard sits at pinnacle of undergraduate prestige hierarchy in America. In this study, then, we plan to apply Bourdieu's concepts to undergraduate and postgraduate experiences of Harvard students. To use Klitgaard's term, by looking within the right tail of bell shaped curve (in this case, those who have been selected to attend most prestigious undergraduate college in America), we hope to learn some valuable things about way American elite functions to reproduce itself. …

High culture, hegemony, and historical causality

Highbrow/Lowbrow: The Emergence of Cultural Hierarchy in America. LAWRENCE W. LEVINE

Highbrow/Lowbrow: The Emergence of Cultural Hierarchy in America

Highbrow/Lowbrow: The Emergence of Cultural Hierarchy in America

Levine. Highbrow, Lowbrow - The Emergence of Cultural Hierarchy in America

To this reviewer, Lawrence W. Levine's latest study represents cultural, intellectual, and social history at its best. In the introduction Levine recounts his growing awareness of the fact that the present hierarchical distinction between "highbrow" or "elite" culture and "lowbrow" or "popular" culture is of relatively recent origin, dating only from the tum of the last century. For instance, during most of the nineteenth century Shakespeare was "part and parcel" of a "rich shared public culture." In theaters the Bard was presented, suitably altered to suit local dramatic and moral tastes, to a socially heterogeneous audience who freely expressed their views, verbally and in more physical ways.

Highbrow/Lowbrow: The Emergence of Cultural Hierarchy in America (review)

Highbrow/Lowbrow: The Emergence of Cultural Hierarchy in America (review)

Highbrow/Lowbrow: The Emergence of Cultural Hierarchy in America.

Journal Article Lawrence W. Levine. Highbrow/Lowbrow: The Emergence of Cultural Hierarchy in America Get access Highbrow/Lowbrow: The Emergence of Cultural Hierarchy in America. By Lawrence W. Levine. Cambridge, Massachusetts, and London: Harvard University Press, 1988. Pp. xiii + 306. $25.00 cloth. Robert Y. Turner Robert Y. Turner Search for other works by this author on: Oxford Academic Google Scholar Shakespeare Quarterly, Volume 42, Issue 3, Fall 1991, Pages 373–375, https://doi.org/10.2307/2870855 Published: 01 October 1991

Highbrow Lowbrow: The Emergence of Cultural Hierarchy in America

Highbrow Lowbrow: The Emergence of Cultural Hierarchy in America