The Prison of Snobbery

How you judge others is how you judge yourself

Elena Ferrante’s Neapolitan Novels tell the tale of Elena, a woman from a working class slum in Naples who, against all odds in a society rife with snobbery and sexism, becomes a successful academic and author. “I would always be afraid: afraid of saying the wrong thing, of using an exaggerated tone, of dressing unsuitably, of revealing petty feelings, of not having interesting thoughts.” (Image: Publicity shot from HBO’s television adaptation of My Brilliant Friend. Fair use.)

I have a working class accent. As soon as I open my mouth, I can see people’s eyes betray their prejudices about me.

I remember at a birthday party finding myself stood at the bar beside a journalist. We sort of knew each other, having a mutual friend. As soon as I greeted him I could see in his eyes the annoyance that he might be stuck with me for at least a few minutes.

English people’s voices betray their class in a way that’s unmatched in the anglophone world.

The upper classes have “cut glass” accents, also known as “Queen’s English” or “RP” (received pronunciation). The lower classes speak in regional accents that often border on dialects. My own is London accent, with glottal stops often taking place of t’s and h’s.

As I got talking to the journalist, about civil rights — a matter close to his heart — it became evident that I had a PhD in a related topic. I could sense that I had utterly defied his expectations.

We spoke for an hour or so. His new enthusiasm to talk was tinged with a guarded disbelief at how the gaudily-accented nincompoop talking could be so cultured. His snobbery had rebounded and hit him in the face, he was suddenly humbled.