Old School

Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 2003

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Summary

Chapter Summaries & Analyses

Chapters 1-3

Chapters 4-7

Chapters 8-10

Character Analysis

Themes

Symbols & Motifs

Important Quotes

Essay Topics

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Discussion Questions

Symbols & Motifs

The Fountainhead

Ayn Rand’s The Fountainhead, published in 1943, promotes and celebrates rugged individualism. It remains a popular book among libertarians because it prioritizes the desires of the individual over the needs of society.

At first, this book captivates the narrator. He mimics its protagonist, Roark, and re-reads it several times, becoming “alert to the smallest surrenders of will” (70). This obsession with The Fountainhead’ represents the concrete sense of self that the narrator wants to obtain. Rugged individualism is appealing because it seems free of persona.

However, in line with his continuous search for identity, his infatuation is fleeting. In a way, The Fountainhead does help him find a truer version of himself. After deeming it unrealistic, he turns his attention to Hemingway, who inspires him to tell the story of himself, even if this makes him appear vulnerable and wounded.

Judaism

In this post-World War II period, issues pertaining to Judaism remain at the center of the global stage. At the prep school, incidents related to Judaism, along with allegations of anti-Semitic behavior, illustrate how, despite a superficial harmoniousness, dividing lines exist in the campus community.

Shortly after starting classes at the school, the narrator is walking between classes and whistling a tune that, unbeknownst to him, is a Nazi marching song. He walks near a campus handyman, Gershon, who is Jewish and survived the Holocaust, though much of his family did not. Gershon confronts and reports him. The narrator is summoned to the office of Dean Makepeace, who questions him about why he would do such a thing. Eventually, Dean Makepeace realizes that the narrator was truly unaware, but he still requires the narrator to apologize.

The narrator goes to Gershon’s drab living space in the dormitory basement. Rather than providing a heartfelt apology and trying to understand Gershon’s perspective, the narrator instead focuses on doing what is necessary to escape the situation while staying out of trouble with the school. To achieve this, he considers telling Gershon that he too is Jewish. The narrator has Jewish blood in his family, but he has never identified as Jewish. Nonetheless, he thinks using this identity might help him achieve his self-serving goal. He ultimately decides against this tactic, noting, “I'd let Gershon think the worst of me before I would claim any connection to him, or implicate myself in the fate that had beached him in this room” (23).

His relationship with Bill is also tainted by an undercurrent of anti-Semitism. They room together for years. Though the narrator knows that Bill is Jewish, Bill doesn’t tell him this. This frustrates the narrator, who takes the omission as an act of dishonesty and feels entitled to this information. Later in the novel, when the narrator wins the Hemingway contest with a story that is largely about anti-Semitism, Bill angrily accuses the narrator of appropriation. The narrator dismisses Bill’s grievance, telling him that if it was his story, then he should have written it.

Troubadour

Troubadour is the campus literary magazine to which, along with his friends, the narrator devotes much of his time. Troubadour represents the boys’ inflated (and, later, deflated) sense of importance to the greater literary world. George holds the position of editor, which seems to make the narrator somewhat jealous, though he does respect George’s qualifications for the job.

During editorial meetings, they engage in lengthy debates about what should appear in the magazine as if it were of dire consequence. Purcell, in particular, is highly critical of virtually all submissions. On the eve of the Hemingway contest deadline, they debate the merits of a story written by a boy who has continually tried to get published in Troubadour. As the editorial staff considers it, George suddenly brakes their façade of importance by saying to “just run the stupid thing! Who cares? It’s not like the rest of this crap’s about to set the world on fire” (120).

The narrator knows that George is right, noting that Troubadour “was not going to set the world on fire. But for the past year we’d been acting on faith that it might” (120). He then states:

So, the game was over—that’s what George was telling us, the prick, the spoiler. He’d somehow lost his innocence and now he couldn’t rest until we too had seen that our sanctum sanctorum was only a storage room, our high purposes not worth a fart in a gale of wind (120-121).

While Troubadour gave the boys a chance to feel like they were shaping the broader literary landscape, it ultimately contributes to the realization that their work has not been of great consequence.