Having worked in academia, I'm open to seeing it satirized. This wasn't my favorite of the genre (sub-genre?), and I found it dragged at times. I wish there were a few more laughs for the reader. Thank you for the ARC.

Wise, Witty Fun

The first book about life at Payne University, (the Thurber Prize winning "Dear Committee Members"), was an epistolary novel, which is something of an acquired taste for many readers. This sequel, in a more traditional narrative form, is a fine and amusing successor, and perhaps even more successful in interweaving the follies, foibles, and troubles of a large, but manageable, cast of familiar and yet quirky and unique characters.

Lots of snappy banter, inside jokes, work place comedy, clever plotting, and an exceptionally satisfying conclusion reward and entertain the reader, and I'd be delighted to see another volume take us further into the life and travails of English Department Chair Fitger.

(Please note that I received a free ecopy of this book without a review requirement, or any influence regarding review content should I choose to post a review. Apart from that I have no connection at all to either the author or the publisher of this book.)

If you've read Dear Committee Members, you must read this novel. Although at times this hits too close to home, Schumacher is a gifted storyteller.

3.5, rounded up.

I read this immediately following its prequel, Dear Committee Members, which was both fortuitous and unfortunate. Fortuitous, in that the two books really make a nice cohesive, seamless whole, the second book following in time immediately upon the ending of the first one. Unfortunate, in that, even though the humor and enjoy-ability of the first remains, what made DCM so brilliant was its being an epistolary novel, entirely composed of the protagonist's letters of recommendation on various subjects. This sequel reverts to a standard novelistic format, so suffers a bit, but only in comparison - it's still a fun, fast-paced read, but one does miss the caustic first person voice of Jason Fitger. I might add that one DOESN'T need to have read the first book to understand or 'get' all that goes on here, but do read DCM first anyway. My only other quibble is there seems to be some rather superfluous subplots here (in particular the plight of poor Angela, which somewhat bogs down the ending) ... but if Schumacher ever decides this needs to be a trilogy, I'm definitely on board for part three.

The Shakespeare Requirement drags horribly and relies on humor that isn't particularly interesting or original. Plus, the sub-plots are so riddled with stereotypes that I found myself cringing throughout. I was so looking forward to reading this and thought, from the first few chapters, that I would thoroughly enjoy it, but that just wasn't the case.

I was unaware when I began to read this book that it was a sequel to the novel "Dear Committee Members", but luckily the two books stand alone well enough that I didn't feel I was missing anything by not reading the first. The story follows Jason Fitger, newly named English department chair at fictional Payne University. At a time when the Humanities are failing and the economics department is taking over their building, relegating English to the musty basement, Fitger tries hard to hold his department together while also trying to win his ex-wife over. Most reviews say the first book was funnier but since I never got to read it, I found "The Shakespeare Requirement" hilarious.

I really enjoyed all the characters in this book and found them to be very real and likable. I thought this book did an excellent job showing the complexities of all different kinds of relationships. I did feel that there were so many different characters and relationships developing that I did not get to know the characters as well as I would have liked. I also felt the ending was somewhat sudden and confusing. I wish there had been more explanation as to what happened to Cassovan and his affairs. I also would have like more follow up on what became of Fitger and the English department after the vote. Overall, I did enjoy the book and hope that there is another book that ties up all the loose ends.

I was hoping to enjoy this more, after being so fond of its predecessor, "Dear Committee Members." I spend a good deal of time in academic environments, and so was looking to encounter the same hilarious satire with which Schumacher filled her other novel. Perhaps that's what set me up for disappointment as "The Shakespeare Requirement" lacked the wittiness of DCM that I so craved. It has all the necessary components for a good academic satire: a failing humanities department, an inexperienced Chair, an admin running the department - but I was never able to quite connect with the underdeveloped characters, and, so, it fell short.

Jay Fitger has been voted in as chair of the English department by his colleagues who don’t want to serve in that capacity themselves. Payne is a uninspired middle of the road college with clear lack of focus and mission. Jay is sincerely trying to be a credible leader but has trouble mustering up support, because for crying out loud, he’s a novelist, not a scholar, and God knows, pedigree matters.

English shares their building with the overly ambitious and well-funded Economics department who want nothing more than to reduce the English class load and if possible relocate the department to another building. English has two floors of Willard Hall and Econ only has the top lavishly remodeled floor. The Econ chair cries foul and maneuvers to relegate English to the basement and free up the first floor for his department. He is quite the sinister manipulator, wooing the President and Provost, and also trying to entice the aging English faculty into early retirement.

I worked for six years as a secretary in a university graduate school before becoming a student myself. In my role as recording secretary for the graduate council I saw behind the curtain and witnessed plenty of interdepartmental conflict. It was rather disillusioning. That Jay Fitger didn’t run screaming from Payne and Willard Hall was to his credit. I began the book disliking him very much but he gained my appreciation by the end.

For a while, we got a lot of students at our library who wanted to write about why a liberal education was or was not worth the cost. So I frequently found myself defending the humanities on the fly by talking about critical thinking, empathy, and other, more intangible benefits. I’m rather proud of myself for being able to do this, because it’s a lot more than the faculty of the beleaguered Payne University can do in The Shakespeare Requirement, Julie Schumacher’s sequel to her uproarious novel Dear Committee Members. (It’s not necessary for readers to read Dear Committee Members to understand The Shakespeare Requirement. Both books are hilariously on-point satires, so I recommend them both.)

Jason Fitger survived a year under siege in the English department at Willard Hall while the upstairs is extensively remodeled by the swimming-in-donations Economics Department. Now, Fitger has to survive being the chair of a notoriously fractious department at a time when they have to justify every penny the Payne University (there are a lot of jokes about the name) spends on them. Being academics, they believe that it’s blindingly obvious why students ought to learn Shakespeare, medieval literature, feminist and postcolonial literature, and celebrate all the Brontë birthdays. To them, the question is not why should anyone study Shakespeare. Their question for everyone else is, why wouldn’t students want to study Shakespeare?

The Shakespeare Requirement bounces from character to character to give us an inside look at a university that houses every academic stereotype we’ve ever heard of. The rapacious Econ chair is attempting to build an empire that resembles a for-profit institution. The administration is bloated with vice and assistant something or others and completely useless when it comes to the in-fighting of the faculty. Most of those faculty are oblivious to anything else but defending their intellectual territory. In fact, most of the book involves Fitger chasing down his English faculty to horse-trade so that they will pass the department’s statement of vision. Plus, there’s the bureaucracy, which could be described as a Kafkaesque nightmare or an unfixable snarl of catch-22s.

I found The Shakespeare Requirement sharply funny. I snorted and chuckled at the jokes and jibes. I loved the tangled plots and the perfect ending. But what really makes this book is the heart that underlies the jokes. The faculty, in spite of their eccentricities and pettiness (and excluding the Econ chair), love their subjects. They want to teach their students the joys of literature and to look at the world with an critical eye. They don’t just want to churn out workers. I find that admirable; I’m in an adjacent line of work and have the same goals. The jokes and satire just help the medicine—the bitter truths about American academia as it exists now—go down.

This is a sequel to the author’s Dear Committee Members, a hilarious sendup of the pettifoggery of academia.

In this book, new department head Jason Fitger, pompous and irascible as ever, is as usual clueless about the chaos and aggravation that awaits him, to the annoyance of Fran, his efficient assistant.

Looming over all the small exasperations is the menace of the Economics Department and its chair, Roland Gladwell, who convinced the university and corporate sponsors that his department needed state-of-the-art classrooms and technology. But like all kings, he still has realms to conquer . . . meaning he now covets the English Department's remaining space.

Then there is the hell of Mission Statements. Anyone who has had to deal with this most gaseous of useless red tape snarls will shudder, or cackle, at the prospect of the mayhem ahead.

Fitger’s attempt to get a 90-year-old Shakespearean scholar to retire backfires when the man convinces the press that Shakespeare isn't important to the English Department any longer.

And then, there’s his ex-wife to be dealt with, now the significant other of the dean . . .

I suspect the readers who will enjoy this book the most will be those who haven’t read Dear Committee Members. This book is full of quips, and sly as well as not so sly skewerings of faculty politics. The reader does not have to have read the previous book to catch up on the various personalities, as there is plenty of introduction through free indirect discourse narrative terpsichore.

But the constant barrage of cleverness began to blur, at least for me, making the middle drag. I knew where a couple of storylines would go from their introduction, such as Angela’s. Standard characters and development weigh down this type of social satire, and I found myself wishing that the author had stayed with the delightful format of the previous book.

Still, a fun read—Schumacher does have a way with words!

Julie Schumacher Reminds Us of the Importance of the Humanities



I doubt that there's a career on earth that couldn't be enhanced by the ability to express oneself clearly, verbally and on the page - twitter-in-chief, are you listening? Research has proven that students of the humanities develop empathy and a more global view of the world. So I was pleased to hear the discussion yesterday morning on NPR's "the1A" with award-winning author and literature teacher Julie Schumacher about her novel "The Shakespeare Requirement." https://the1a.org/shows/2018-08-13/the-hilarious-shakespeare-requirement

It is not as laugh-out-loud funny as "Dear Committee Members" only because the subject matter is so important. Emphasis on STEM curricula for high school and college students has placed funding for the humanities on the back burner at a time when professors and their departments are jumping through hoops for paltry pockets of money. Political discourse throws shade at those of us who prefer literature, sociology, or philosophy to math and science, labeling us "elitist."

The Shakespeare Requirement: A NovelInto the fray walks Schumacher's Jason Fitger, novelist and head of the decaying English department at Payne University. Over the summer break a huge influx of cash allowed the Economics Dept. to double in size, appropriating office space from the English Dept. downstairs, occupying the offices of the campus newspaper, acquiring glossy new bathrooms, computers, furniture, and respect.

For English to hold on to the little that remains, Fitger must bring his faculty members in line to agree on a Statement of Vision. Having worked on a few of these vision statements myself, I had to chuckle at the load of bunk they can be.

Though Fitger is a throwback to another generation, he adamantly refuses to learn the new university-wide communication system, preferring face-to-face interaction, he is not above taking advice from his much more politically savvy former wife who happens to be sleeping with the dean. As he gamely pursues consensus among his beleaguered staff members he becomes a kinder, gentler Fitger, forging a relationship with his quirky office assistant, Fran, adopting one of her animal protégées, and taking in a fellow professor who's recovering from surgery.

But the most difficult aspect of his academic career involves the Shakespeare requirement for Humanities majors and the battle for the soul of its lone champion, Professor Dennis Cassovan. As Fitger attempts to bribe the elderly Cassovan into retirement, students across the campus and around the country take up the heroic cause with a Save Our Shakespeare movement worthy of the Occupy Wall Streeters.

As all you English majors out there know, Shakespeare was probably the world's foremost psychologist before the term psychology had even been coined. His expert knowledge of the human condition is evident in every single play. If I had my way, Shakespeare would be required for college graduation in every field so I don't come to this book as an unbiased reviewer.

Julie Schumacher has given us a novel billed as hilarious, though it actually calls upon irony, empathy, and gentle humor to take readers inside the halls of academe, exposing the great challenges that come with being an educator in today's environment. Like Shakespeare, it should be a requirement.

I was looking through my books read shelf for a funny book to recommend to a Goodreads friend and I realized that I haven’t read very many funny books. Having enjoyed [book:Dear Committee Members|19288259] by this author, I thought this sequel to Jason Fitger’s trials and tribulations as a college professor would provide me with a few laughs and it did . Fitger is now chair of the English departmental at Payne University and is faced with a number of challenges. The dilapidated offices of the English department are in dire need of renovation. There is no department budget until he gets the faculty to agree on a Statement of Vision which all of the other departments submitted last year. To make matters worse, Raymond Gladwell, head of the Economics department residing in the newly renovated, state of the art space on second floor of Willard Hall, has plans to take over the English department space on the first floor and basement. To add insult to injury his ex wife is sleeping with the Dean whose approval is needed to make necessary changes in the department. Oh and there are wasps in his office . Dennis Cassovan , professor of Shakespeare on the verge of retirement, wants Shakespeare to be required reading as part of the vision statement, while another faculty member was concerned about “eliminating the dashes in paragraph three.” And so it turns into a “Shakespeare problem.”

I admit this was funny, but I also have to admit that I just didn’t enjoy this as much as [book:Dear Committee Members|19288259] which reflected the absurdity of it all through Fitger’s hilarious, snarky letters which so eloquently depicted his frustrations. This just didn’t work as well for me in the straight narrative format. Then there was a veering off about a student’s personal problems. However, it was entertaining, full of quirky characters, and I still think there is an audience for this, most likely in academia, who could perhaps relate to this no matter what the narrative format.

I received an advanced copy of this book from Doubleday through Edelweiss and NetGalley.

As someone who works in academia, I can't help but enjoy this genre of writing: the academic satire. I really enjoyed Schumacher's prior (epistolary) work, Dear Committee Members..The Shakespeare Requirement was even funnier and quite entertaining. This book is a perfect summer read.

The Shakespeare Requirement is an entertaining, satirical read that takes on the state of affairs in today’s academia. Some of the plights and characters of the struggling to survive Humanities are so agonizingly real, it makes you want to cry; others are a bit over the top. There is a sub plot involving a naive freshman student that seems as if it belongs in another book and belabors the story. Otherwise, it is engaging and in some ways all too real.

Julie Schumacher who wrote the hilarious Dear Committee members is back in the Academic snake pit with The Shakespeare Requirement.
"The Shakespeare Requirement" details Jason Fitger’s, struggles to get a dozen English Faculty to agree on a draft of the “Statement of Vision” for the college. His efforts are thwarted at every turn and most by the senior Shakespeare scholar who believes all English majores should be required to take a Shakespeare class.
As if trying to get academics to agree on anything weren’t trouble enough, Fitger and the English Dept. must watch as the Economics Department, rich in resources, is attempting to boot out the English Dept. for more space for itself. And Fitger's attempt to get a mossbacked and antediluvian Shakespeare scholar to retire backfires spectacularly when the press concludes that the Bard is being kicked to the curricular curb.
A witty, scathing account of the serious subject of the Humanities in Peril.

I’m old enough to remember that the biggest parlor game of the 1970s and 1980s amongst US readers was to bicker over whether the latest Stephen King movie did justice to the book from which it was adapted. Everyone had read each subject book before viewing the corollary movie. You can imagine that no one ever liked the movie better. But, more than that, the conversation criticizing the applicable movie could go on for, literally, hours as each participant piled on with his or her heresy committed by the applicable director. If we’d had whiteboards, they would have needed to be very large and everyone would have needed to write in quite tiny lettering. It got rather tiresome by his 8th or 9th bestseller. Trust me.

In a similar vein, there are a subset of readers who adored Dear Committee Members, Schumacher’s 2014 epistolary novel, a wonderful, fresh send-up of the English Department at Payne University, who will be so disappointed that The Shakespeare Requirement is told in standard narrative form that they will be unable to get past that difference to approach The Shakespeare Requirement on its own terms. As a result, they are likely to nitpick and compare the novels to death, to the detriment of The Shakespeare Requirement. Let’s get this out of the way: The Shakespeare Requirement is no Dear Committee Members. But it shouldn’t have to be. Nor should Schumacher be expected to have written her sequel in epistolary form so that we can all essentially read the same book with a different title and adding few new characters.

In fact, the reader most likely to enjoy The Shakespeare Requirement is someone who comes to it without having read Dear Committee Members, enjoys smart humor (several notches up from The Rosie Project but with a similar breeziness to it) and, in particular, is amused by either academia or bureaucracy or is or was an English major. Mea culpa. There’s also nothing in The Shakespeare Requirement that requires a reader to have any certain background knowledge derived from reading the earlier book.

One thing Schumacher does exceptionally well is lull the reader along into thinking her novel is one mere quip after another and then, she tackles a serious topic in an authentic and satisfying way. She also excels at endings, which is no small feat. In between, the plot isn’t quite substantial enough to support 320 pages, and it dragged a bit in the middle, but the characters are tremendous fun, and not mere stereotypes. Well, except for Roland Gladwell, the insufferable Economics Department chair, and that’s no surprise to any English majors. I’ve heard. From friends.

This book offers an amusing, if not quite satisfying look at academia. It's funny, satirical and wry, but I found myself drifting off a few times, struggling to keep my attention on the story. I would read more by this author, but this was not quite what i hoped it would be.

It's always hard to write a follow up to such an out-of-the-blue storm as Dear Committee Members and, alas, The Shakespeare Requirement fails to meet the incredible heights of the past work. The follow up novel simply isn't as funny as the first. I think the abandonment of the epistolary narrative used in the first book is mostly to blame. The letter format allowed the reader sufficient distance to enjoy a cast of dark and generally pretty unpleasant people. Not having to see into the heads of the people writing such ridiculous emails made their pompous and ridiculous behavior even more pleasingly outrageous. The new narrative style removes that distance and asks the reader to assess not only the actions but also the inner workings of the rather unappealing faculty of Payne. It renders the story somehow too real (at least for this former academic) to be funny and instead mostly reminded me of why I left the profession.

The Shakespeare Requirement is just as delightful a send-up of academic culture as Julie Schumacher's previous book, Dear Committee Members. Jason Fitger, reluctant chair of the English department, finds himself faced with a dilapidated building, a new and terrible online scheduling system, and a bizarrely adversarial Economics department that is working to push the English department off-campus altogether.

The plot is a bit thin, but the characters are so endearing (apart from the Economics chair, Roland Gladwell, who is perhaps the academic equivalent of Steve Mnuchin) that it was pretty easy to overlook. Being an occasional English instructor and a librarian at a community college, I might be more the target audience for this book than other folks.

Part of the plot's resolution hinges on some wordplay that should be obvious, but manages to remain cleverly disguised right up to the book's end. Very impressive.

I received access to this title via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.