Both the TV and the viewer exclaim, "I Love It!"

During a protracted period on the couch with a stomach virus a few months ago, I found the only thing I could keep down was HGTV. The voices on these shows were so soothing and nonjudgmental, and the hardwood floors, finished cabinetry, coordinated backsplash, and designer-rustic farm sinks so aesthetically pleasing that I was lulled back to health before I knew it. I came away with a deep appreciation for how this programming functions in our culture.

To begin, it is useful to observe what these shows are not about. They are not about self-improvement. To be sure, they focus on improvement — i.e. on the production of a nicer envelope for living. But no effort is made to improve the health, wealth, or moral fiber of the clients being served. This, quite frankly, is a relief. We have passed through the cultural interlude in which we were bullied relentlessly about eating better, exercising more, and brightening up our personalities (not to mention our teeth). This, I believe, has made us acutely aware of how lazy and inherently imperfect we are, creating anxiety and anger as the eventual byproduct. Our current political situation can be understood as a backlash against that wearisome imperative that we be better than what we are inclined to be.  More… “Our HGTV Moment”

Paula Marantz Cohen is Dean of the Pennoni Honors College and a Distinguished Professor of English at Drexel University. She is the host of  The Drexel InterView, a unit of the Pennoni Honors College. The Drexel InterView features a half-hour conversation with a nationally known or emerging talent in the arts, culture, science, or business. She is author of five nonfiction books and six bestselling novels, including Jane Austen in Boca and Jane Austen in Scarsdale or Love, Death, and the SATs. Her essays and stories have appeared in The Yale ReviewThe American Scholar, The Times Literary Supplement, and other publications. Her latest novels are Suzanne Davis Gets a Life and her YA novel, Beatrice Bunson’s Guide to Romeo and Juliet.


In a bygone era of gray flannel suits and ad copy that read as sincerely as a minister’s sermon, masculine sanctuary within the realm of the family home came in three flavors: the study, the workshop, and the bar. Kids weren’t allowed in these places, not just because Dad needed some time away from the tiny demons who had sabotaged his dreams, but also because there was nothing for kids to do in these places. They were adult rooms where serious business transpired. The study was for drinking Scotch while pondering the works of Aristotle and Hugh Hefner. The workshop was for drinking beer while building a new doghouse or set of bookshelves. The bar was for drinking Mai Tais while flirting with the neighbor’s wife.

It’s possible a great degree of contemplation went into the various iterations of these three templates, but not probable. The goal wasn’t… More…