“The middle ground, roughly halfway between poetry and mathematics, is where philosophers can make their best contributions, I believe, yielding genuine clarifications of deeply puzzling problems . There are no feasible algorithms for doing this kind of work. Since everything is up for grabs, one chooses one’s fixed points with due caution.”
–Daniel C. Dennett
Key Terms: Intuition pump, Boom crutch, Reductio ad absurdum, et al.
Daniel C. Dennett describes Intuition Pumps and Other Tools for Thinking as “a book of celebrating the power of non-mathematical tools, informal tools, the tools of prose and poetry, if you like, a power that scientists often underestimate” (10). In it, he advocates for many of the principles of philosophy, as he presents them, being used in the service of other fields. Much of his advice is easily taken at face value, such as the claim that “I have always figured that if I can’t explain something I’m doing to a group of bright undergraduates, I don’t really understand it myself, and that challenge has shaped everything I have written” (12). Venturing slightly farther afield, he draws connections between his own field and those of the “hard” sciences: “There is no such thing as philosophy-free science, just science that has been conducted without any consideration of its underlying philosophical assumptions” (20). While his work does not directly relate to composition, I do believe it offers an interesting and creative approach to rhetoric that might easily be adaptable to classroom use.
“Radical phantasy begins with the great and uncompromising refusal of conventional wisdom, a refusal that has always identified the countercultural magician, even when (as Agrippa demonstrates) the world believed in magic.”
–William A. Covino
Key Terms: Generative magic, Arresting magic, Phantasy
William Covino’s 1994 work, Magic, Rhetoric, and Literacy: An Eccentric History of the Composing Imagination, offers up a sketch of rhetorical history with an eye toward demonstrating the presence of “magic” as, alternately, either an element of rhetoric or its equivalent. In defining his concept of magic, Covino writes that “magic is and always has been symbolic action (that is to say, magic never occurs apart from language), in the service of individual or social transformation” (12). He borrows much of his initial definition of magic from another work, Daniel Lawrence O’Keefe’s Stolen Lightning: The Social Theory of Magic. Covino makes the case that even science borrows from ritual and magic: “In a nonmagical society, our classification systems are presumed to be scientific and logical, so that their origins in social rituals within a magical epistemology are forgotten” (13). So, if magic is a symbolic performance–even, perhaps, that of the scientific method that invokes trust and credibility–it follows fairly reasonably when Covino raises the idea of “magic rhetoric,” which prefers “a fertile, dynamic, and fluctuant imagination to its opposite” (16).
“Throughout the inhabited world, in all times and under every circumstance, myths of man have flourished; and they have been the living inspiration of whatever else may have appeared out of the activities of the human body and mind. It would not be too much to say that myth is the secret opening through which the inexhaustible energies of the cosmos pour into the human cultural manifestation.”
Joseph Campbell’s The Hero with a Thousand Faces, first published in 1949, may be the greatest treatise on mythical archetype ever written. I hesitate to even bother describing the work, as it is known so well. I include this entry only for the sake of completeness, but I will be brief. Campbell’s work is chiefly concerned with symbols and their recurring power over the human experience. To that end, he documents the Monomyth, or the Hero’s Journey, in some seventeen steps, ranging from the Call to Adventure at the start to the Freedom to Live at the end. For Campbell, these patterns resonates with metaphysical truths, but more importantly (at least for my own purposes) he establishes the importance of fluency in the language of symbolism.
“Truth in art is not the discovery of facts, not an addition to human knowledge in the scientific sense of the word. It is, rather, the exercise of human propriety, the formulation of symbols which rigidify our sense of poise and rhythm. Artistic truth is the externalization of taste.”
Key Terms: Syllogistic progression, Qualitative progression, Repetitive form, Conventional forms, Minor/incidental forms
In his 1968 work, Counter-Statement, Kenneth Burke offers up an extensive discussion of artistic form, striking key distinctions between information and the form in which that information is produced. In defining form, Burke writes, “Form is the creation of an appetite in the mind of the auditor, and the adequate satisfying of that appetite” (31). He further argues that form orients to the experience of the audience, not the subject (32). Thus, he defines “artistic felicity” as the correct use of form upon the audience, and eloquence is when the form used elevates the information conveyed (37).
“As [an author] writes, he creates not simply an ideal, impersonal ‘man in general,’ but an implied version of ‘himself’ that is different from the implied authors we meet in other men’s works. To some novelists it has seemed, indeed, that they were discovering or creating themselves as they wrote.”
–Wayne C. Booth
Key Terms: Implied author, Intellectual/cognitive interest, Qualitative interest, Practical interest
Wayne C. Booth takes on a variety of projects in his 1961 text, The Rhetoric of Fiction. Largely, he counters literary myths of the time, such as the notions that objective, impersonal, dramatic narratives are superior. Making the point that despite whatever is currently in vogue there may be many different methods to presenting a story, Booth challenges “rules” of storytelling, from “show, don’t tell” to “novels must be realistic.” He also introduces key concepts that inform my own research, such as the idea of the “implied author” and a discussion of the various “interests” that fiction serves.
“There is a degree of acceptance among us all, no matter how critical we might be, of traditions and national-cultural norms, an acceptance that not only must be considered but can be exploited in promoting changes in the systems that sort us in particular ways. Yet mine will not be a radical view, in an orthodox Marxist sense, though it will be a view that aims at something more than relativism or pluralism.”
Key Terms: Problematic (Althusser), hegemony, subaltern (Gramsci)
In this excepted chapter, “Considerations for American Freireistas,” Victor Villanueva sets out to “mediate between the two prevalent trends among American Freireistas today: 1) the trend to reduce politics to discussions of the different cultures and histories found in the classroom, and 2) the trend to convert the classroom into a political arena that aims at pointing out injustices and instigating change” (623).
“I seek to illustrate how code switching is all about race; how it is steeped in a segregationist, racist logic that contradicts our best efforts and hopes for our students. […] In the end, I promote code meshing, the blending and concurrent use of American English dialects in formal, discursive products, such as political speeches, student papers, and media interviews.”
–Vershawn Ashanti Young
Key Terms: Code Switching, Code Meshing, Dominant Language Ideology
In his article, “‘Nah, We Straight’: An Argument against Code Switching,” Vershawn Ashanti Young defines “Code Switching” as such:
“The prevailing definition, the one most educators accept, and the one I’m against, advocates language substitution, the linguistic translation of Spanglish or AAE into standard English. This unfortunate definition of code switching is not about accommodating two language varieties in one speech act. It’s not about the practice of language blending. Rather it characterizes the teaching of language conversion.” (Young 50)
In his essay, Young sets out to illustrate that code switching is steeped in racist thinking and segregationist history. He characterizes the usual model of code switching as one of “transition,” designed to replace one means of language expression with another. In opposition, Young advocates for “code meshing: blending dos idiomas or copping enough standard English to really make yo’ AAE be Da Bomb” (50).
“Adopting subjectivity as a defining value, therefore, is instructive. However, the multidimensionality of the instruction also reveals the need for a shift in paradigms, a need that I find especially evident with regard to the notion of ‘voice,’ as a central manifestation of subjectivity.”
—Jacqueline Jones Royster
Jacqueline Jones Royster sets out three aims in her article, “When the First Voice You Hear Is Not Your Own.” The first of these is to present three “scenes” as “personal testimony as ‘subject'”; the second to “demonstrate that our critical approaches to voice, again as a central manifestation of subjectivity, are currently skewed toward voice as a spoken or written phenomenon”; and the third a “call for action in cross-boundary exchange is to refine theory and practice so that they include voicing as a phenomenon that is constructed and expressed visually and orally, and as a phenomenon that has import also in being a thing heard, perceived, and reconstructed” (30).
“The language represented in the headnotes of this essay reveals deeply held beliefs. It has a tradition and a style, and it plays off the fundamental tension between the general education and the research missions of the American university. The more I think about this language and recall the contexts in which I’ve heard it used, the more I realize how caught up we all are in a political-semantic web that restricts the way we think about the place of writing in the academy.”
Key Terms: Behaviorism
In his 1985 article, “The Language of Exclusion: Writing Instruction at the University,” Mike Rose addresses five fallacies that seem to plague composition instruction in higher education: “Writing ability is judged in terms of the presence of error and can thus be quantified. Writing is a skill or a tool rather than a discipline. A number of our students lack this skill and must be remediated. In fact, some percentage of our students are, for all intents and purposes, illiterate. Our remedial efforts, while currently necessary, can be phased out once the literacy crisis is solved in other segments of the educational system” (547). Rose is addressing the “deeply held beliefs” revealed in the language and thinking described above, and he asserts that “we all are in a political-semantic web that restricts the way we think about the place of writing in the academy”; given this, he warns, “Until we seriously rethink it, we will misrepresent the nature of writing, misjudge our students’ problems, and miss any chance to effect a true curricular change that will situate writing firmly in the undergraduate curriculum” (548).
“Although some accounts suggest that feminism, until recently, has been absent or at least late-blooming in the field, we find a more complex relationship in our reading of essays and books in composition written from a feminist perspective–in particular, the many accounts of personal experience in the field written by feminists and by women since the 1970s.”
—Joy Ritchie and Kathleen Boardman
Key Terms: Aporia
In “Feminism in Composition: Inclusion, Metonymy, and Disruption,” Joy Ritchie and Kathleen Boardman set out to “document and celebrate the vitality of feminism in composition,” to “point out that much early feminist work in composition is not documented in our official publications,” to put forth ways of examining and theorizing first-hand experiences with feminism in composition, while also giving serious consideration to “the causes and consequences of the delay in feminism’s emergence in the published forms of our discipline and the extent to which feminism, despite its recent vitality, has remained contained or marginalized in composition” (587-588). “Finally,” they note, “we hope to speculate on the positive and negative potential of inclusive, metonymic, and disruptive strategies for feminism’s contribution to composition’s narratives” (588).