So it occurs to me that, as a literary scholar, the best I can ever hope to do in my career is just explain what somebody else has already said.
If I'm really lucky, I'll get to explain it in an obscure lexicon that can only be understood by a handful of people, and thus I'll have explained it by making it even harder to understand and even less accessible to the typical reader.
If, by some stroke of misfortune, I find a way of making some text easier to understand by using plain speech and therefore lead non-academics to actually read and appreciate my work, I will be labeled a sell-out and therefore a failure in the scholarly community...although I'll probably make more money as a result.
And here's some other paradoxes constructed out of hasty generalizations for you...
Universities hire professors to teach students.
The most sought after professors are the ones who are better researchers than teachers.
The professors that are well respected at their own university are rewarded with promotions.
If you continue to get promoted, you eventually end up getting tapped for an administrative position.
If you are an administrator, not only do you no longer teach, you end up not really even having time to do research.
Thus, the best professors end up not doing anything at all academic...and often get paid twice as much for managing rather than teaching or researching.

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