Word: jojo
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...That Kinda Girl” by Jojo “I don’t know why it is on my iTunes. It might have been one of those songs that is catchy for about five minutes—then once you put it in your iTunes, update your iPod and run to class, you forget that it is there.” 4. “Take Me As I Am” by Wyclef “It is not the most influential song, but its message is greatly appreciated. Especially at Harvard, where perfection is not just...
...pitch-perfect rendering of that great American art form [of musical theater],” the actual music of the afternoon was provided almost exclusively by the undergraduate performers. Tom P. Lowe ’05, Alvin E. Hough Jr. ’07, Jojo S. Karlin ’05, Michael C. Mitnick ’06, Amy M. Zelcer ’07, Allison C. Smith ’06, and Jennifer L. Brown ’07 all took turns performing for Prince, Rybeck, and the rest of the audience, taking time between songs to ask their...
...getting crunked,” and “grinding” Wolfe delights in establishing his knowledge of). Charlotte’s academic pursuits initially suffer setbacks as well, as when she takes a class on French Literature populated by “steaks” like Jojo who are ushered through easy courses to maintain GPAs eligible for NCAA competition...
...other characters are no more nuanced, and—surprise!—their stories collide towards the novel’s end. There are times when Wolfe veers towards originality in characterization, as when Jojo accepts Charlotte’s promptings and enrolls in difficult classes in an attempt to break the mold his creator has set for him; or when Hoyt, for a few pages, seems like he might carry a glimmer of redemption. Yet the rivers of characterization rut deep in Charlotte Simmons, and deviating from their firmly established course does not go beyond tiny rivulets...
Pervasiveness is right. If you buy Wolfe’s view of college students, every one of them, from the lowly virgin Adam Gellin to the satisfied stud Jojo, and even our dear Charlotte, is pressured relentlessly by their environment to believe sex is the end all of existence. In this world no one, no matter how lofty his or her sense of self, can escape the “ripped” grip of lust. We are all of us frenzied cats, unable to buck the tide of hormonal rampage that courses through our veins and coed halls...