In fact, the Ivy league exceeded its quota in literature many decades ago—yet we the American public still get novels written by this nation’s most favored sons and daughters crammed down our throats, out of all proportion to any possible interest in them. One of the latest is Penelope by Rebecca Harrington, a Harvard grad writing about—surprise!—Harvard. The book has been well hyped. Harrington deserves, I guess, every advantage. (See the music student in my recent e-novel, The Tower.)
What we have in America, particularly in the approved literary world, is a caste system, with the Ivy League securely at the top of the pile.
For background, check out this jokey article from last year by George Will:
Even conservative icon Will is able to admit, “It has been well observed that America’s least diverse classes are SAT prep classes.”
Ivy League grads themselves, of course, are invariably liberals who argue for democracy and change—while every fact of their privileged lives argues against their statements.