Lately, the options for what to consume in the culture are overwhelming and the algorithm is making it impossible to figure out what’s actually good. That’s where Cult Following, CULTURED’s new monthly advice column by writer and cultural omnivore Delia Cai, comes in.
Did you catch Covid again and need recommendations on what shows to binge? Want pointers on how to get cultured while living in a small town? Or maybe you just want to feel a little more impressive and hold your own at that next dinner party?
Whether you’re seeking recommendations for what to watch, eat, read, listen to, or any combination thereof, CULTURED’s new column exists not only to narrow down your choices, but also to help all of us confront our deeper anxieties about navigating the wild, beautiful world of art and culture.
This week, Delia gives a finance bro some reading recs—and a little existential pep talk.
Do you have a question about how to enrich your cultural diet? Email Delia at cultfollowing@culturedmag.com.
Dear Cult Following,
Unfortunately, I’m one of those finance guys you hear so much about. Boo, hiss, I know. I’m genuinely trying to be more cultured, though, especially with my reading diet, but I’m just terrified of doing it in a “weird” or “lame” way. Any suggestions?
Signed,
Six-Five, Blue-Eyed, Wanna-be Erudite
Ohh, I get it. You’re not like the other Masters of the Universe (that’s a critical Bonfire of the Vanities reference, but more on that in a sec!). You’re one of the earnest ones, aren’t you? How sweet.
My first piece of advice for you is to embrace the identity, dude. There’s been so much “finance man” discourse lately, thanks to the viral TikTok-verse that has prompted much journalistic investigation, and while it may seem counterintuitive, I think you should enjoy it a little. A major part of appearing “cultured” stems from a working degree of confidence with yourself and your whole deal; self-awareness is the foundation of all interesting and well-read people. (Plus, if it’s any comfort, I can assure you that no one actually hates finance guys anymore because we’re waaaaay more annoyed with tech bros and their A.I. bullshit.)
In fact, I think it would do you some good to brush up on the finance man literary canon if you haven’t already. Get back to basics by rereading American Psycho and The Great Gatsby, especially if it’s been a while—once you realize that Gatsby narrator Nick Carraway is just a 29-year-old bond salesman, it actually makes the whole yarn pretty hilarious. Then work your way forward into time with Tom Wolfe’s 1987 classic, Bonfire of the Vanities; last year’s talk of the Hamptons, The Guest; and the soon-to-be iconic Paris Review essay by Daniel Lefferts, “My Year of Finance Boys.” (Also: get a print subscription to the latter, but don’t “display” the issues in some obvious braggy way on your Noguchi coffee table. What are you, 22?)
Now, once you’ve been briefed on these and, ideally, have cultivated a sense of humor about living and breathing a trope, let’s enter some vivid inner worlds. (Put down The Power Broker! Another smarmy biography is not going to beat the corporate drone allegations!) Bend your mind a bit with either of Ted Chiang’s sci-fi short story collections, which concern themselves much less with aliens and planets than metaphysical questions. Then, for more domestic narratives that put the full power of a well-constructed sentence on display, try some James Salter (you’ll probably love the 1967 romance, A Sport and a Pastime, which feels like the sexy European vacation we all deserve) or John Williams (try Stoner, especially if you ever belonged to a state school fraternity and like clean, spare prose).
If the fiction thing intimidates you, try a little criticism with Byung-Chul Han’s Non-Things, which will get you thinking more philosophically about selfies and smartphones; Jenny Odell’s Saving Time, which will help scramble the feeling of life as a series of billable hours; or Natasha Stagg’s essay collection, Artless, which will passcode you impressively into any small-talk opportunities with downtowners.
But to be honest, Mr. Six-Five, being more “cultured” isn’t really about making sure you’re reading the “right” books. I once knew a guy like you. He dedicated a year of his life to watching two to three movies every day, by himself at home, just so he could work his way through the basic film canon and participate in any basic discussion about film for the rest of his life. You have to admire the commitment, but to me, it also suggested something dead inside the soul to be treating works of art like a checklist to be completed.
Likewise, there’s no definitive list of books (no matter what the New York Times says) that someone’s going to quiz you on at some secret Brooklyn party in order to induct you into the realm of taste-having. The real secret no one will tell you is that someone with weird taste or an obsession with a random author is going to be far more interesting to talk to at any dinner party than a regular “cultured” schmoe who’s just marched themselves through a Googled English 101 syllabus.
So try to unclench those soft office hands from acquisition mode. Consider, instead, how to cultivate a child-like openness when you walk into a bookstore and see what moves you. Start one Notes app list to track recommendations you get in the wild, and start a different one where you keep track of what you’ve read—and how much you enjoyed it—so you can get a sense of your taste as you go. Most of all, let your whims guide you, and enjoy the ride. Before you know it, you’ll feel cultured—and not just like you've done your homework.
Delia Cai is the author of the media and culture newsletter Deez Links. Most recently, she was the senior vanities correspondent at Vanity Fair. Her first novel, Central Places, was published in 2023. To submit a question for Cult Following, email cultfollowing@culturedmag.com.
