Angol
Why school yearbooks—as frivolous and cringey as they are—are far more than just objects of nostalgia. We’re all familiar with the embarrassment that washes over us when recalling our high school yearbooks. Questionable fashion choices, gravity-defying hair, a melodramatic quote—what were we thinking? Even as school yearbooks decline in popularity among contemporary teens, they continue to impact our lives in shocking ways. Collected, digitized, aggregated, and recombined in ways that would have been impossible to imagine just a few decades ago, yearbooks are no longer bound personal archives of adolescent memories. In the twenty-first century, they are shaping our lives in surprising and sometimes disturbing ways. And what could be a more fitting afterlife for these cringey books? In School Yearbook, cultural critic Kate Eichhorn investigates this ubiquitous object. On the surface, school yearbooks are easily dismissed as innocuous collections of embarrassing photographs and cheesy affirmations, but as Eichhorn reveals, there has never been anything innocent about the school yearbook tradition. Since the early twentieth century, yearbooks have circulated as forms of public relations, propaganda, and hate speech. They have been routinely used by police detectives, private investigators, and even the FBI to identify and profile suspects. With over half a million yearbooks now available online, these books have also acquired the power to continue shaping our lives long after graduation. Would-be landlords, employers, and even creditors can now turn to data culled from their embarrassing pages to make judgments about who we are and what we merit. In a digital era, school yearbooks have acquired the ability to keep judging us in perpetuity. Both timely and insightful, School Yearbook explores how these books have always been used to rank and judge us.
