Amy H. Sturgis earned her Ph.D. in intellectual history from Vanderbilt University in 1998. She is the author of Presidents From Washington Through Monroe (Greenwood, 2001) and Presidents From Hayes Through McKinley (Greenwood, 2003), as well as the author of six chapters of Political Theories For Students (Gale, 2002). Her articles on native American issues have appeared in journals and magazines such as Seventeenth Century, Reason, and The Freeman . She teaches in the Liberal Studies Program at Belmont University, and often lectures in summer seminars at universities across the country for the Institute for Humane Studies. She also serves on the Academic Advisory Board for Markedscentret (The Market Center) in Denmark.

In the field of science fiction/fantasy studies Sturgis has presented research with such organizations as the Media Studies Working Group, the International Conference on Medievalism, and the Mythopoeic Society. Her articles in this field have appeared in journals and magazines such as Mythlore, Parma Nölé, CSL, and Winedark Sea, among others, and she has contributed multiple articles to the popular publication Revolution Science Fiction. Her most recent work will appear in the forthcoming 2004 anthology Tolkien on Film: Essays on Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings Trilogy. In 2003 she was named scholarly Guest of Honor for the international Gathering of the Fellowship celebration of J.R.R. Tolkien. Sturgis has also been a Special Guest speaker at literary science fiction/fantasy conventions such as MidSouthCon, DeepSouthCon, and Xanadu, as well as popular culture conventions such as PHREAKnic.

Under pseudonym, Sturgis has published several short stories and novellas in the fantasy and science fiction genres, and she currently is completing her first novel. She lives with her husband, Dr. Larry M. Hall, and their Boston terrier, Virginia, on a small farm outside of Nashville, Tennessee.

Tim O’Shea: A quick scan of your professional output reveals three scholars in one–it would appear. As well-versed as you are in all things Tolkien, you’re equally informed on such areas as diverse as the history of the American presidents and The Bureau of Indian Affairs and Native Americans. Do you think that diversity brings a unique perspective to each subject matter. I daresay a standard Tolkien scholar could not draw parallels of that fictional landscape and infrastructure to the plight of Native Americans. Do you think this perspective allows you bring a perspective to the intellectual discussion that others may lack.

Amy H. Sturgis: I should begin by saying that I don’t see these interests as distinct and separate fields. They are all natural extensions of who I am. My interest in science fiction and fantasy extends back to earliest childhood. The first television episode I recall seeing was “The Empath” from the original Star Trek series. I had just begun school when the dual lightning bolts of Star Wars and Close Encounters of the Third Kind hit the silver screen. And while Tolkien did change my life — that’s no exaggeration — I should note that the first “movers and shakers” of my world were Robert Heinlein, Ray Bradbury, and Frank Herbert. In the same way, I grew up in northeastern Oklahoma, fully cognizant of my mixed ancestry, and also quite politically aware by the time of Wilma Mankiller’s ascension to the office of Principal Chief of the Cherokee Nation of Oklahoma. My parents fed my interest in both genre fiction and Native America. And later, my graduate training provided me tools I could use in understanding Washington as well as Tahlequah. So I don’t see myself as a particular brand of scholar or expert, per se: I simply investigate and write about the things I find meaningful and compelling.

Most importantly, I find that science fiction and history ask the same question: what does it mean to be human? The only difference is that one looks forward for the answer, and one looks behind. They are, essentially, two faces of the same creature. That said, I do believe my interests allow me to bring a somewhat different perspective to the table. For example, I teach a course entitled “The History of the Future: 20th Century History Through Science Fiction.” This is not a history of the genre, but literally history through the genre: a classic case of a multidisciplinary pursuit. And when I talk or teach about the Columbian Encounter of 1492, I can use extended science fiction metaphors — Ray Bradbury’s The Martian Chronicles, Mary Doria Russell’s The Sparrow — as useful windows into the topic. And of course there is that area in between science fiction, fantasy, and Native America, that space inhabited by Amerindian authors such as Louise Erdrich, whose rich and textured works demand a knowledge of history and literature in order to appreciate them as the artistic and political works that they are. Those are the worlds in which I have lived and like to travel.

O’Shea: Secondly, if your workload became too great, and you were forced to choose, which area do you envision pursuing to a greater degree in the long term, and hopefully making a name for yourself? Or is this trinity of knowledge your ultimate pursuit?

Sturgis: I don’t necessarily see myself as either a career presidential expert or Tolkien scholar; I have carried my tools where my interests and opportunities have taken me. My broader devotion to science fiction and fantasy, however, is a constant in my life, as is my concern with Amerindian issues. And, as I have mentioned before, I see both as a part of my identity, and also as dual answers to a common question, one that is, at its heart, political. In the long term, if I could make my name as anything, it simply would be as a writer, as someone who brings ideas together, I hope, in a somewhat new and thought-provoking fashion, because ideas have consequences.

O’Shea: In teaching the course “Fan Participation in Media and Culture,” did you find that the Internet has helped elevate the level of discourse in the media and culture, or has the ability of anyone with a keyboard and Internet connection allowed for the potency of such discussion to be diluted and diffused to its detriment?

Sturgis: An interesting question! Sturgeon’s Law certainly can be applied to the Internet, of course. But in cyberspace, as elsewhere, having options is almost always a good thing. When teaching that course, I was particularly struck by the difference in how countercultural, or at least “under the radar,” groups interact with one another now versus twenty years ago. For instance, amateur publications and fanzines took a great investment of time and money to produce in the 1980s, and part of the experience was the snailmail give-and-take of submissions, revisions, and of course waiting for the next issue. You quite literally needed to know someone on the inside to even make a connection with that subculture. Now the cost and time have been all but eliminated, and such networks are truly international and transgenerational. If you like an actor’s portrayal of a particular film character, you can come home from the theater, write up a fan fiction drabble in an hour, post it on your LiveJournal, get feedback from fellow fans before bedtime, and have it accepted the next day in an online, movie-specific archive that a week earlier didn’t even exist. That’s remarkable.

All in all, I’m rather unsympathetic to those who lament the “lowest common denominator” nature of the ‘Net. The same fears about the masses participating without concern for content or quality — to carry through with my fanfic example, writers posting anything they can think of to Fanfiction.net without the benefit of spellchecker, beta reader, or editor — were heard when the printing press first promised easy creation and dissemination of books. People are endlessly adaptive, and they spontaneously develop flexible systems to help them cope with ever-increasing amounts of information and alternatives. If I don’t like the uneven quality of stories on Fanfiction.net, I can go to any number of specialty websites that boast only those stories that have gained approval from a rigorous panel of referees. Gatekeepers emerge. Quality control survives. I find it fascinating and heartening to see such innovation in action.

O’Shea: An upcoming piece by you, “Make Mine ‘Movieverse’: How The Tolkien Fan Fiction Community Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Peter Jackson” (for Tolkien on Film: Essays on Peter Jackson’s The Lord of the Rings), something struck me. By the topic itself seems to reveal a certain sense of delusion, not on your part, but on the part of Tolkien fans. What I mean, is that it seems to imply that without the Tolkien Fan Fiction community’s seeming acceptance, to a certain degree the films could not have succeeded. But in fact, it would seem the abridged theatrical release of the film is a mainstream success (thereby reaching the non-scholarly/non-Tolkien loyalist audience). Or am I offbase with this surface assessment?

Sturgis: I see where your train of thought is headed, but in fact I was referring to a different phenomenon with my title’s homage to Dr. Strangelove. My work in this case is about how the Tolkien fan fiction community now incorporates a wide spectrum of participants, from “purists” who resist any inspirations beyond the novels to “newbies” who pen Middle-earth tales despite never having read Tolkien’s work. These fan authors now have multiple texts from which they can draw inspiration, and they must decide whether to center their plots and characterizations on Tolkien’s descriptions or Jackson’s imagery – or, perhaps most interesting of all, to negotiate a space in between, blending the most compelling aspects of each while attempting to reconcile the points where they diverge. My interest lies in how, now that the films have succeeded, these fan fiction authors are using and transforming Jackson’s work as a common language in their own Tolkien-based literary projects.

O’Shea: To the other extreme, how maddening/disconcerting/or not-a problem at all is it when non-Tolkien fans speak admiringly of the films or an element of the story, but when they share it with you, it becomes quickly apparent they misinterpret or misunderstand the scene, character or plot element they so enthusiastically point out to you?

Sturgis: You have to have a sense of humor about it all. You really do. Of course I don’t claim to have the Only Correct Answer on Tolkien’s works, and I often learn a good deal from debating with students, colleagues, and acquaintances. And it’s hard to fault enthusiasm, regardless of its inspiration. But there are times like you describe, and it’s soon immediately clear whether these individuals are willing to entertain another perspective or are simply convinced that they have The Truth. If it’s the latter, well… you have to have a sense of humor. Beating your head against the wall also works — in small doses, of course. Peter Jackson has been a blessing and a curse in that sense. Yet regardless of what I think of his successes and failures in the film trilogy, and I believe he has both, in the final analysis, people are interested in Tolkien thanks to the movies, and that’s A Good Thing.

O’Shea: How current does your knowledge of the Native American (or Amerindian) socio-economic plight extend, given that your PhD is rooted in Cherokee Civilization, 1500-1830? Why I ask is I’m just curious if you have an opinion either way in such matters as Native Americans & Gambling Casinos or Native Americans and Nuclear Waste?

Sturgis: I always have opinions, Tim! 🙂 In fact, my exploration into the 1500-1839 period, a time of constitutional debate and refinement in many ways, was a direct result of my interest in the 1997 Cherokee Nation of Oklahoma constitutional crisis brought about by actions taken by then-Principal Chief Joe Byrd and the Bureau of Indian Affairs. I bookended my PhD dissertation work with a discussion of this crisis, and also investigated it for Reason magazine. My concerns remain contemporary, though I try to back up my understanding with a sense of history. I teach a course entitled “Native American Identity in the US Context,” in fact, which is an examination of American Indian issues from the 1960s to the present. All that is to say that present policy is of great interest to me.

As for the casinos, the subject will always come back to that of property ownership. As long as the native nations are held separately by the national government via the BIA, with limited economic opportunities and incentive structures, there is tragic injustice. I don’t blame the leaders for choosing the casino option, as it is one of so few they have, but economically it is an Band-Aid on a gaping wound, and its very structure merely reinforces the inequality in how native nations are treated by the law. When they can break away from BIA control and conduct business in the same way as all others in the US, nationals and non-citizens alike, then they will be prosperous and competitive. A perfect case study is that of the Mississippi Band of Choctaws. By in effect negotiating a separate peace with the US government, the Choctaws recently privatized almost all of the services once performed by the Bureau of Indian Affairs and gained new financial freedom in the process; thanks to the direction of Chief Phillip Martin, the Choctaws have become an entrepreneurial powerhouse, opening a greeting card plant, numerous factories, a television station, a casino, and a hotel, to name just a few of the successful enterprises; Choctaw companies are now the leading employer of local whites and blacks as well as Choctaws. But they are the fortunate ones; those who get the temporary government boon of the casinos are not, because those purse strings are still bound up with the chains of US federal control.

And certainly the Skull Valley Goshutes are a perfect example of how groups who are marginalized by law, who have no recourse but through the very system that abuses them, can be mistreated and endangered while the world looks on. It is an ongoing source of wonder to me why that situation, the Leonard Peltier case, the Cherokee Nation crisis, the BIA-gate debacle, and so many similar incidents do not draw wider public attention. It’s in everyone’s self-interest to be informed and active: not only are the native nations held by law in an unconscionable situation, but US taxpayers are the ones footing an enormous bill to keep it that way.

O’Shea: Where and when the interest in Amerindian matters begin?

Sturgis: As far back as I can recall, my parents were wonderful about introducing me to all parts of my ancestry and my region’s history. I found particular interest in knowing I was part of the Cherokee family and story. When I was a little girl, my father did his graduate work at Northeastern State University in Tahlequah, Oklahoma, the capital of the Cherokee Nation of Oklahoma, and I remember the many times when he and my mother took me to see the museums, art galleries, and historic sites there and elsewhere — and live performances, as well, such as the “Trail of Tears” outdoor drama at the Cherokee Heritage Center. When I was old enough, they helped me find books to give added context to the things they showed me. Those outings became regular events for us, and there could have been no better education. If I had to name a more adult turning point, though, I would say that I was deeply moved by the experience of going with my parents in my hometown of Tulsa when I was thirteen to see the American Indian Theatre Company’s production of “Black Elk Speaks,” which starred not only the amazing David Carradine, but also the late, legendary Muscogee-Creek actor Will Sampson and the brilliant Cherokee actor Wes Studi (who remains one of my most favorite actors). There have been many times when I’ve looked back on that intense, wrenching performance and realized what a significant impact it had on me.

O’Shea: Back in late 2001 you were a panelist (representing Native American Issues) for the U.S. Department of State International Visitor Program Roundtable on Grassroots Democracy? How much has the focus on such issues been downgraded by the U.S. government in the post-9/11 landscape…if at all?

Sturgis: That’s a good question, and one I’m not sure I can answer. Certainly the post-9/11 landscape is less conducive to that kind of discussion; just bringing the representatives from across the world would be a trick in an era when security concerns about travel, and strong emotions about current policy, stand in the path of such plans. Leaders in the US government have other things on their plate at the moment. But I don’t think the dialogue is over. I see non-state-sponsored, private institutions like think-tanks engaging in very productive discussions and cooperation with others, seeking opportunities to experiment and innovate and network with individuals and groups who have different regional and national experiences. I suspect that’s where any real change would begin, anyway, because an established government in the long run doesn’t have that much motivation to change.

O’Shea: As a scholar of presidential history, in the earlier eras of presidents were there people under him that can be considered the equivalent to the modern day spin doctors? Why I ask is, from my biased (liberal) opinion, history is elevating Ronald Reagan to a near-level of minor deity, thanks in no small part to what I perceive to be historian revisionists. Would you say other presidents have been elevated in a similar manner thanks to certain historians spins on some president’s records?

Sturgis: I think you might have two questions here, one about spin doctors, and one about historians. Don’t get me wrong: many people have been both simultaneously! But I’d like to separate the two roles for a moment. I would argue spin doctors are as old as the presidency, but they “came out of the closet” when candidates themselves began actively campaigning in public, around the time of William Jennings Bryan. Before then, it was considered good form for candidates to sit back, appear disinterested, and allow others to campaign on their behalf, though as you can imagine, many were very active in campaigns from the sidelines. But there was never a time when spin doctors did not spin, or elections weren’t, in some form or fashion, negative. I think it’s natural for citizens to see Reagan, for example, as a very relevant figure to the current election season, and so it doesn’t surprise me that his legacy is being interpreted and reinterpreted, invoked and critiqued. I think you and I might disagree on how that’s happening and why, but I definitely see the phenomenon as one tied to current policies, candidates, and election campaigns.

Now to the historians. I don’t think Reagan is an easy figure for historians to consider at this point, because not enough time has elapsed either to understand and evaluate all of the impacts of his administration, or to separate him from a tradition that’s being played out right now in the upcoming election. In short, I think he is still too much of a current event for most historians to tackle, and I would suggest that any history written on Reagan today, for good or ill, is probably much more about George W. Bush than about Reagan. Political scientists and economists are another matter entirely, of course. As for presidential history, yes, we see revisionism all the time. It’s not always a bad thing: new information comes to light, or old prejudices are discovered and set aside, and stories are and should be rewritten. But any political history is a difficult enterprise at the best of times. Your question reminds me of Arthur M. Schlesinger, Jr.’s 1946 tome The Age of Jackson. It won a Pulitzer, but I would argue that it speaks much more to Schlesinger’s own era, his love of New Deal policies and enthusiasm for populist democracy, than to Jackson’s political means or ends. Schlesinger in effect read history backwards to cast Jackson as a reformer in the mold of Franklin Roosevelt: the resulting work amounted to an articulate lovefest that ultimately had little to do personally with Jackson at all. It happens.

O’Shea: At MidSouthCon in March, you participated in a panel, Is Media SF Hurting Education? For those like myself who were unable to attend the panel, what was the final verdict, from the panel’s perspective and also from your own view?

Sturgis: What a great discussion that was! My fellow panelists included science fiction/fantasy authors such as C.J. Cherryh, M.M. Buckner, and David Brin (via telephone), NASA’s Les Johnson, and physics professor Brett Bolen. The participants represented a variety of different perspectives, but I would say the conversation eventually yielded two main positions. On the one hand, some suggested that the “Star Trek technobabble syndrome” does a great disservice to students by misrepresenting the facts of science and the nature of scientists. On the other hand, some felt that science fiction series and films can help the cause of education if they interest the students at all, by providing springboards for further conversation and heroic role models for future scientists. I fell in the latter camp. I also think that the entire question changes depending on what we consider science. If we include the social sciences, for example, we can find many opportunities to use current media science fiction as an exciting educational tool in courses on psychology (think Buffy! think The X-Files!), political science (think Babylon 5! think The Prisoner!), history (think Firefly! think Star Trek!), etc. So it became a question of the half-filled glass, and I opted for the “half full” interpretation.

O’Shea: As a presidential historian and pop culture scholar, do you enjoy West Wing? If not, what movies or TV shows do you think effectively capture the U.S. political landscape? (For me, while idealist to a certain degree, I love Capra’s Mr. Smith Goes to Washington…)

Sturgis: I tend to give The West Wing a very wide berth, and Mr. Smith, as well, though I certainly appreciate its place in the political film canon. (As for the latter, I’ll admit to having more of a soft spot for Homer Simpson’s remake, but perhaps it’s best we don’t go there. And my husband, who is a real political theorist and thus knows these things, would never forgive me if I didn’t mention that Jean Arthur is quite a gal.) Back to The West Wing: clever satire and subversive speech are one thing, but preachiness and self-importance are something quite different: hence — and this is a scandalous confession — I never warmed to Jean-Luc Picard. I have “old school liberal” tendencies at my core, and I hold that we must be jealous of our rights, and wary of the power we allow our leaders to possess, or they will do as they have done, and take more and more of it. So knee-jerk idealism, I think, does no one any good. And it is too serious an issue for me to enjoy such series as entertainment. Moreover, The West Wing‘s approach smacks to me of the larger game of Hollywood politicos, and I am yet to understand why either Sean Penn’s or Bruce Willis’s opinions on anything other than film scripts should be of interest to me at all. As for films that capture the political landscape, I’ll admit a weakness for Brazil, and the lesser known Kurt Vonnegut’s Harrison Bergeron. And of course there’s always the original Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Sometimes I’m tempted to get in touch with my inner Kevin McCarthy and run down the middle of the street yelling “They’re here!” So far I’ve resisted, though, mostly out of fear of Nashville drivers. As for television, I’ll have to side with the wise Shakespeare scholar Paul Cantor and say that the best political work by far on the small screen today is South Park.

O’Shea: Do you worry there may be an influx of Tolkien scholar wanna-bes entering college at present, who think (mistakenly) they understand Tolkien because they saw three films?

Sturgis: In my experience, the students who believe that the films make them experts don’t keep this conviction for long. First, the books are everywhere, and so are the readers. At some point, students feel the pressure from friends and/or classmates to look at the texts themselves or be quiet about the films. (On a side note, Time magazine noted in 1965 that “Going to college without Tolkien is like going without sneakers.” If you change “sneakers” to “flip flops,” the same could be said of 2004!) Second, love of the films is fueling a renaissance in Tolkien courses at the university level worldwide. I’ve had many students who were drawn to my Tolkien class by an appreciation for the movies. That’s a service for which I owe Peter Jackson thanks, because I know those students will have read Tolkien’s works by the time my course is completed.

I think the case of a movies-only audience may be overstated, as well. I am deeply interested in the subject of literacy, and I have had the opportunity to talk in different venues about Tolkien’s fiction in support of that cause. Quite recently I had the delightful experience of speaking at a local public middle school, and I learned firsthand how seriously some young film viewers were taking the books. You don’t know humility until a sixth grader asks you a question about the Elvish language, or the specifics of different calendar systems in Middle-earth, or aspects of The Silmarillion! In one classroom alone fully half of the students said they had read The Lord of the Rings — and then went about proving it. Days like that make the world go ’round. But after all, it only stands to reason that if nine hours of a story is good, then 1,000+ pages of it will be even better!

On a related issue, I understand academics’ concern about “opportunistic” authors cashing in on Jackson’s current Tolkien moment by tossing out poorly conceived and sloppily researched “quick buck” texts on Tolkien. I certainly see why some of the luminaries in the field are grieved about this: some were writing careful scholarship on Tolkien before I was born, after all, and now they see people swooping in on the subject to which they’ve devoted their lives and addressing it without much rigor or even competence. Still, I cannot get too upset about it in the long run. When the smoke clears in a year or two, and these “fair weather” Tolkien experts have moved on to the Next Big Thing, quality scholars will still be writing, and their works will still be reprinted multiple times, and instructors will still be teaching from the texts that matter. I have to believe that time — and not necessarily a huge span of it, either — solves these problems to a large degree

O’Shea: To your knowledge, has anybody made the mistake I did when reading your resume and initially thought you had written essays for Seventeen magazine, when in fact you’ve written for Seventeenth Century magazine? (Ignore this question, if it’s too lame, I just had to share my error with ya…)

Sturgis: To my knowledge, no one has. But since I have deeply held convictions about OPI nail lacquer, Burt’s Bees lip balm, and leather-free Birkenstocks, I’m glad you did. (Are you listening, Seventeen?)

It has been a great pleasure talking with you, Tim. Thank you!