A year ago, when I read about Harvard sophomore Kaavya Viswanathan’s book deal, I was impressed by her ability to make half a million dollars on a plot that sounded like an exaggerated version of the lives of my fellow prep school students. I thought the story immediately sounded trite; but apparently it was so boring and unoriginal that Viswanathan couldn’t even find her own words to write How Opal Mehta Got Kissed, Got Wild and Got a Life. Which is why, a year later, she is at the center of a plagiarism scandal, accused of stealing intellectual material from a number of different books.

When the Harvard Crimson first pointed out similarities between Viswanathan’s work and Megan McCafferty’s “Sloppy Firsts” and “Second Helpings,” Viswanathan answered that any similarities were accidental. Her response sounded plausible: the coincidence of eight similarities in two novels with parallel storylines seems fairly likely. In the past week, however, McCafferty’s publisher, Crown, has noted over 40 similarities, making Viswanathan’s claim less realistic. The recall of her books from stores, the recent discovery of substantial similarities to another book, “Can You Keep a Secret,” by Sophie Kinsella, and additional small resonances with as many as four additional sources, seem to be merely final nails in her publisher’s coffin.

In Viswanathan’s defense, the genre of “chick lit” can be fairly redundant, and it seems natural for authors to merge the styles of others they admire to develop their own. Her own comments and defenses, however, seem to have dug her into a hole. Viswanathan maintains that any plagiarism of ideas or phrases was completely “accidental.” Her explanation for “accidentally” plagiarizing McCafferty 40 times is that she absolutely adored McCafferty’s works in high school and must have somehow “internalized” them. One week before the scandal surfaced, she told the Newark Star Ledger that “nothing [she] read gave her the inspiration” for her novel. Though she claims to be an avid fan of McCafferty’s books, which “spoke to her” in many ways, her high school teachers cannot remember her ever talking about McCafferty.

Ms. Viswanathan, as a plagiarist, is most certainly responsible for her own behavior. But what is most alarming about the case is that her corner-cutting seems to have been encouraged by the people around her. Her book was not written because of some internal inspiration. Rather, she was referred to her publisher, Little, Brown & Co. by her private college counselor. The publisher then put her in touch with Alloy, who worked with her to develop the concept for the book and write the first four chapters. It is all too easy to understand why she might have plagiarized; the idea itself wasn’t her own, nor was her desire to write the book, but rather both were derived from corporate executives’ goading.

The real problem here is not just a college sophomore’s indiscretion in writing (/transcribing) a novel that probably wasn’t that original anyway. Instead, Viswanathan’s behavior is more troublingly reflective of a larger societal dynamic through which people trying to get ahead by taking shortcuts. Fundamentally, the motivating force in our society seems to be an unquestioning ambition to get ahead, not a motivation to produce quality work.

This ambition is clearly a product of the intense pressure in our society to deliver results and push forward. Indeed, ambition and drive have been essential ingredients in the incredible development of fields such as technology, science, and literature, and that progress is supported by high-quality, authentic work. Cutting corners, however cannot be an acceptable byproduct of this pressure-cooker atmosphere.

Is it, however, hypocritical to laud the achievements of the ambitious but condemn them when that ambition leads to cheating? One might even argue that this game’s construction includes an inherent – though small – probability of cheating, and it certainly can reward it. The distinction is subtle yet imperative: ambition can be incredibly dangerous when directed solely toward immediate personal success, or it can be a powerful tool when coupled with a commitment to produce the best possible original work. As a society, we don’t make a distinction between the two until someone falters and is caught -- like Ms. Viswanathan.

It is frightening how ingrained the former mentality seems to be in Ms. Viswanathan’s generation, evident even in our college application process. Ironically, Ms. Viswanathan and her fictional protagonist seem to have shared a similar coming of age: she tells the story of a young girl whose parents engineer her life in order to get her into Harvard, a story initially alleged to have been based on her own experiences. It is a fiction that seems pretty close to reality for Viswanathan and many others who forgo pursuing activities about which they are passionate, and strive only for what they think looks good on a college application or resume. Instead of aiming to be truly well-rounded or well-qualified, they want to appear well-qualified. And while Ms. Viswanathan’s carefully- assembled façade impressed the admissions officers of Harvard, the smoke and mirrors were discovered and appropriately smashed shortly after classes began. Ms. Viswanathan’s quick ascent was based on a sham, and she deserves to become an example dissuading others from such hollow success. At least we know this plagiarist will never be copied.