I was fascinated by the array of male genitalia on display. I felt like I was in the produce section of an exotic supermarket: no poking or squeezing, please.

– from “The Naked Truth

Academic Manqué*

After getting a doctorate in American literature from New York University, I realized I didn’t want to move somewhere I didn’t want to live in order to do something I didn’t want to do, i.e., teach. What can I say? There are book smarts, and there are life smarts.

But my Ph.D. comes in handy when… well, not so often. Having an advanced degree in English makes you socially suspect (“Ooh, I’d better watch my grammar around you”), and, outside of academia, less employable (“With your doctorate in literature, Ms. Jarolim, would you really feel comfortable editing romance novels?”). It can also get you into trouble. Early on, I put “Dr. Jarolim” on a credit card. I cut it up after I was called on to do an emergency appendectomy at a bar.

That said, the subject of my dissertation, Paul Blackburn, died at the age of 44 in 1974, so a lot of his wild and crazy poet friends were still around. I had a blast hanging out with them in the name of research. And instead of having to get a real job during those years, I could hide out and read great books. I even got my dissertation published, and in two versions: The Collected Poems of Paul Blackburn and the Selected Poems of Paul Blackburn, which I edited and introduced. Sadly, they’re both out of print.

Getting a Ph.D. also gave me the moxie to write book reviews, including several shorts in the New York Times. Here’s one I wrote for the Tucson Weekly since moving to Arizona. I’m always up for doing more. The subjects I’m most qualified to discuss are travel,  food, and pretty much anything relating to the Southwest and Mexico. Also dogs — not necessarily of the Southwest and Mexico, though I’m a fan of the Xoloitzcuinli (Xolo or Show-Low), a charming Mexican hairless dog, and the mysterious pottery Colima dogs.

*That’s an elegant French way of saying “failed”