I presumed some givens at the beginning of the semester rhetoric study. Granted, had I ever encountered opportunity to ponder those givens, I might not have assumed so much. Doesn’t everyone know, for instance, that composition is no less valid or necessary than oratory? Early rhetoricians’ disputes over rhetoric definitions, rhetoric’s ethical implications, even whether or not rhetoric had a place in discourse seemed silly to me.
At first.
As the semester progressed, I found and enjoyed and made note of (for further study) people who have influenced me personally. I coul relate to some rhetoricians based on what I choose to do as a teacher and a writing tutor; I related to others because they propose ideas I hope to learn to use. Socrates and Aristotle impressed me for their arguments and propositions that continues to pervade rhetoric study in my lifetime. I had not been familiar with sophistic concepts of rhetoric and see some of my personal leanings in their ideas of inclusiveness and lack of binaries.
Possibly, I related most to Saint Augustine for his devout life and the fact that he chose to see language as a tool for serving God. Some of the women rhetoricians interested me for their distinct (from masculine and from each other) voices. Astell and Pizan gave me food for thought by their straightforward use of rhetoric in a world dominated by one rhetoric “gender.” I think Astell got away with some of her discourse because at least her society could say she was exhorting women to carry on a godly role. But she must have experienced some censure, and I admire her persistence. Of all the feminist writers I’ve ever read, Cixous may be the one I most appreciate. I value her challenge and command to write—to write my own voice and to write myself.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Cushmanite rhetoric
Ellen Cushman’s essay on social change contrasted with Burke and the idea of pure theory. Cushman advocates the use of rhetoric for social change but also challenges those who are skilled to empower others. (Or more precisely, to teach others to empower themselves.) In other words, I found her essay pragmatic in many ways. I also noticed the reading inspired response from much of our class. I have wondered if we could split the class into Burkians and Cushmanites—their approaches to rhetoric, while not necessarily mutually exclusive, seem opposite ends of a particular spectrum to me. --No, you did not hear me say “binary.”
Her essay is striking when considered alongside the Brereton history of American college models of composition study. Specifically, I remarked in an earlier post that I’d seen plenty of evidence in American universities of the German institutional model with its emphasis on research and academic scholarship. Cushman turns those priorities upside down. She says scholars should and must identify with people outside the university in order to bring about social changes (383).
Her message, which I believe quite important, isn’t my favorite aspect of her essay—I appreciate even more than the message her use of rhetoric to illustrate the identification she encourages. Throughout the essay, in text or notes, she places herself as much in the community she wishes to assist as in the university community. She refers to her “white trash history” (377) and writes inclusively about shared experiences of cockroaches, unpaid bills, or domestic violence (382). Her essay represents precisely what she advocates: the use of rhetoric to promote a sense of community rather than separation.
Her essay is striking when considered alongside the Brereton history of American college models of composition study. Specifically, I remarked in an earlier post that I’d seen plenty of evidence in American universities of the German institutional model with its emphasis on research and academic scholarship. Cushman turns those priorities upside down. She says scholars should and must identify with people outside the university in order to bring about social changes (383).
Her message, which I believe quite important, isn’t my favorite aspect of her essay—I appreciate even more than the message her use of rhetoric to illustrate the identification she encourages. Throughout the essay, in text or notes, she places herself as much in the community she wishes to assist as in the university community. She refers to her “white trash history” (377) and writes inclusively about shared experiences of cockroaches, unpaid bills, or domestic violence (382). Her essay represents precisely what she advocates: the use of rhetoric to promote a sense of community rather than separation.
Hélène Cixous
Cixous provided one of the most significant reads for me this semester. I had an interest in the écriture féminine ever since my introduction to the concept in my previous Gender Issues and Women’s Literature classes. I liked that her writing style in our selection clearly illustrated her ideas about a woman’s voice.
I can relate to Cixous as the authors portray her in the intro (1523). I grew up surrounded by the 70s feminist movement in American and never felt comfortable fully identifying with the movement itself, although I hoped for many of its purported goals.
But in the US, we experienced nothing compared to the 1968 uprisings that occurred in France, at least in level of intensity. The nation of France has a long history of manifestations (demonstrations) sanctioned by the government. In fact, groups often file an intent to demonstrate with local authorities before carrying out strikes, etc. When the student uprisings began in ’68, the numbers involved grew to far beyond what has ever been seen in this country. So Cixous writes against a backdrop somewhat akin to all 1960s-70s feminist experience, but one with unique undertones. The authors portray her as inclusive and collaborative in spirit, a sensibility I share. And, although her writing in "Laugh" seems strong and definitely confrontational at times, I pick up on her inclusive language as much as her exclusive ideas.
I’m intrigued by her assertion that “[i]t is impossible to define a feminine practice of writing, and this is an impossibility that will remain, for this practice can never be theorized, enclosed, coded—which doesn’t mean that it doesn’t exist”(1529). She does not claim that it is impossible because the feminine writing defies description or has some mystical, other-worldly quality, but because rhetoric of masculine authority pervades the system.
I can relate to Cixous as the authors portray her in the intro (1523). I grew up surrounded by the 70s feminist movement in American and never felt comfortable fully identifying with the movement itself, although I hoped for many of its purported goals.
But in the US, we experienced nothing compared to the 1968 uprisings that occurred in France, at least in level of intensity. The nation of France has a long history of manifestations (demonstrations) sanctioned by the government. In fact, groups often file an intent to demonstrate with local authorities before carrying out strikes, etc. When the student uprisings began in ’68, the numbers involved grew to far beyond what has ever been seen in this country. So Cixous writes against a backdrop somewhat akin to all 1960s-70s feminist experience, but one with unique undertones. The authors portray her as inclusive and collaborative in spirit, a sensibility I share. And, although her writing in "Laugh" seems strong and definitely confrontational at times, I pick up on her inclusive language as much as her exclusive ideas.
I’m intrigued by her assertion that “[i]t is impossible to define a feminine practice of writing, and this is an impossibility that will remain, for this practice can never be theorized, enclosed, coded—which doesn’t mean that it doesn’t exist”(1529). She does not claim that it is impossible because the feminine writing defies description or has some mystical, other-worldly quality, but because rhetoric of masculine authority pervades the system.
Monday, December 3, 2007
To Burke or not to Burke
--that is the question.
I admit some real difficulty on my first (ever) reading of Kenneth Burke. I think part of the impediment was my continual, internal question: but how can I use this? I know that Burke’s work has been profoundly influential. Other rhetoricians have built on his theories, continuing his influence. With all my perplexed thoughts after reading the selection, Landis’s class discussion interested me. But then he told us we likely would generate more questions than answers. And I think we did. Apparently, I was not going to get the one easy answer I was looking for. However, one “breakthrough” came for me toward the end of class when Landis argued for pure theory—that theory itself has value, not only theory plus application.
One influence I noted is Burke’s description of rhetoric as “the use of language to form attitudes and influence action” (1295) (emphasis mine). Most rhetors before Burke that we studied certainly considered rhetoric as capable of influencing action, but I think this is the first time the idea of forming attitudes is mentioned.
I would like to read some of Burke’s literary criticism theory. Maybe I will make that one of my light winter-break readings. The intro information talks about his work in criticism as having aspects of reader-response criticism, which I am inclined toward. The authors point out that Burke found literary pieces to be “best understood by their effects on readers” (1295) and that rhetoric is the tool for understanding literature or any other discourse. Literature analysis interests me far more when I can consider the intersection of the text with my experience(s), i.e., reader-response. From my earliest years as a reader, I cannot recall reading any text without having that reading generate questions throughout the event. Sometimes they have been as simple as, how do I feel about this? Or, why does this matter to me? Other times, I (maybe subconciously) go further and wonder about why I relate, or occasionally fail to relate, to a character or a circumstance. I prefer examining literature as an ongoing, recursive, and interactive event rather than as a static, distant artifact or specimen. And I can see how Burke’s proposition of terminal screens plays into the interactive, recursive act of that type of literature study.
I admit some real difficulty on my first (ever) reading of Kenneth Burke. I think part of the impediment was my continual, internal question: but how can I use this? I know that Burke’s work has been profoundly influential. Other rhetoricians have built on his theories, continuing his influence. With all my perplexed thoughts after reading the selection, Landis’s class discussion interested me. But then he told us we likely would generate more questions than answers. And I think we did. Apparently, I was not going to get the one easy answer I was looking for. However, one “breakthrough” came for me toward the end of class when Landis argued for pure theory—that theory itself has value, not only theory plus application.
One influence I noted is Burke’s description of rhetoric as “the use of language to form attitudes and influence action” (1295) (emphasis mine). Most rhetors before Burke that we studied certainly considered rhetoric as capable of influencing action, but I think this is the first time the idea of forming attitudes is mentioned.
I would like to read some of Burke’s literary criticism theory. Maybe I will make that one of my light winter-break readings. The intro information talks about his work in criticism as having aspects of reader-response criticism, which I am inclined toward. The authors point out that Burke found literary pieces to be “best understood by their effects on readers” (1295) and that rhetoric is the tool for understanding literature or any other discourse. Literature analysis interests me far more when I can consider the intersection of the text with my experience(s), i.e., reader-response. From my earliest years as a reader, I cannot recall reading any text without having that reading generate questions throughout the event. Sometimes they have been as simple as, how do I feel about this? Or, why does this matter to me? Other times, I (maybe subconciously) go further and wonder about why I relate, or occasionally fail to relate, to a character or a circumstance. I prefer examining literature as an ongoing, recursive, and interactive event rather than as a static, distant artifact or specimen. And I can see how Burke’s proposition of terminal screens plays into the interactive, recursive act of that type of literature study.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
We've Come a Long Way, Baby
I found the Brereton excerpts fascinating. Although I knew the field(s) of rhetoric and composition have had to fight for a place, a respected place, in academics, I must have assumed that no one would question the value or validity of writing. After all, a writer must think critically about aspects of the subject being presented; a good writer considers the audience addressed and “the available means of persuasion.” While some could argue that writing is not necessary for every part of life and, therefore, expendable for some, the exercises involved in composing—critical thinking, analysis, synthesis, consideration of audience—underlie all effective communication, making composition and rhetoric indispensable.
Apparently, not everyone felt that way.
The introduction section helped me appreciate the history behind rhet and comp as we know it (in the university setting) today. The author points out that the German university model “stressed research, the creation rather than the transmission of knowledge” (5). My first thought when reading this: “Why does one supercede or exclude the other?” Ideally, creating and transmitting knowledge should be balanced. Right?
Once universities emphasized research, the prestige and rewards associated with it made it difficult for anyone in the setting to recognize teaching’s value. And for some reason, composition and rhetoric were not considered researchable (or research-worthy) fields! Hindsight shows what a mistaken idea that was. But I think I still see results of that kind of thinking in secondary and post secondary schools today.
So the early teachers of comp &/or rhetoric lacked prestige because they were perceived as being in a field which generated no research questions. They also, God bless ‘em, found themselves trying to bring new students’ skills up to university level—the teachers’ work was viewed as remedial: move to the bottom of the totem pole. Seems far removed from the respect given Quintilian’s “good man skilled in speaking.”
Apparently, not everyone felt that way.
The introduction section helped me appreciate the history behind rhet and comp as we know it (in the university setting) today. The author points out that the German university model “stressed research, the creation rather than the transmission of knowledge” (5). My first thought when reading this: “Why does one supercede or exclude the other?” Ideally, creating and transmitting knowledge should be balanced. Right?
Once universities emphasized research, the prestige and rewards associated with it made it difficult for anyone in the setting to recognize teaching’s value. And for some reason, composition and rhetoric were not considered researchable (or research-worthy) fields! Hindsight shows what a mistaken idea that was. But I think I still see results of that kind of thinking in secondary and post secondary schools today.
So the early teachers of comp &/or rhetoric lacked prestige because they were perceived as being in a field which generated no research questions. They also, God bless ‘em, found themselves trying to bring new students’ skills up to university level—the teachers’ work was viewed as remedial: move to the bottom of the totem pole. Seems far removed from the respect given Quintilian’s “good man skilled in speaking.”
Silly Americans
Didn’t get finished looking at Brereton’s intro last time. The excerpts from student papers (100) seem to reflect the perception of knowledge as external, knowable, static. I don’t mean to say that the students themselves assumed that, although I can’t say they didn’t, either. But what came through to me is the possible presupposition on the part of those students’ former teachers—or maybe on the part of the administrators, curriculum designers, whoever. While composition probably was being stringently controlled, still the idea comes through that teachers “own” the knowledge, and spending time listening to lectures—only listening, not analyzing through composition, etc—had greater value than thoughts the students themselves could generate through composition.
I can’t imagine how the research emphasis in universities didn’t naturally lead to appreciation for effective communication. What good does discovering new information do without a way to convey the information? It seems sensible that universities would stress rhetoric and composition study if only because they tie in with the emphasis on research.
I end up asking as many questions as I found answers for. My response to much of the history represented was akin to the author’s about paper load for teachers (Why did they pile writing on? Why did they grade every single piece of writing? etc.). I thought: Why did the move from college to the university system essentially go from one ditch to the other? Was it necessary to throw out things that seemed to have been working in order to incorporate a new method or methods? I suppose it’s somewhat simplistic, but I thought it bold and presumptuous to relegate rhetoric to the back burner after its profound history in the intellectual world. Trust Americans to thumb our noses at convention, even respectable, worthwhile convention.
I can’t imagine how the research emphasis in universities didn’t naturally lead to appreciation for effective communication. What good does discovering new information do without a way to convey the information? It seems sensible that universities would stress rhetoric and composition study if only because they tie in with the emphasis on research.
I end up asking as many questions as I found answers for. My response to much of the history represented was akin to the author’s about paper load for teachers (Why did they pile writing on? Why did they grade every single piece of writing? etc.). I thought: Why did the move from college to the university system essentially go from one ditch to the other? Was it necessary to throw out things that seemed to have been working in order to incorporate a new method or methods? I suppose it’s somewhat simplistic, but I thought it bold and presumptuous to relegate rhetoric to the back burner after its profound history in the intellectual world. Trust Americans to thumb our noses at convention, even respectable, worthwhile convention.
Climbing Bain Hill
Hill and Bain had significant impact on views of rhetoric, its application to composition, and the most effective ways to teach writing. Bain’s recognition right up front that teachers only witness a part of a student writer’s growth struck me as cool. Sometimes I have to remind myself that all writers, regardless of their present maturity (or lack thereof), change over time. Our “fund of expression” (1145) grows and fine-tunes, developing nuances. Some philosopher, Heroclitus maybe? said we never step into the same river twice—it’s not the same river and I’m not the same person each time. So I understand his admission of the limitation of teaching composition.
Here’s another cool thing about the man: he’s not shy about slapping Quintilian! 1147: those old guys made a difference between figures of speech and tropes, but “the distinction is more in appearance than in substance, and has no practical value.” In other words, I’m throwing out the difference and here’s why—it’s meaningless. Can’t make practical use of it.
No doubt Bain’s motives were honorable. He set out to structure the way people think about and teach writing, breaking the whole down into very detailed parts. The modes prevailed, certainly. I’m pretty sure my high school teachers (back in the 70s) must have known Bain personally and felt a responsibility to carry on his work--!
Despite his good intentions and the postive aspects of his contribution, however, I feel sorta limited when I think about his approach. I disagree with Hill that rhetoric is an art, not a science; it’s both, if you ask me. But I wonder, where’s the room for art in Bain’s way?
Here’s another cool thing about the man: he’s not shy about slapping Quintilian! 1147: those old guys made a difference between figures of speech and tropes, but “the distinction is more in appearance than in substance, and has no practical value.” In other words, I’m throwing out the difference and here’s why—it’s meaningless. Can’t make practical use of it.
No doubt Bain’s motives were honorable. He set out to structure the way people think about and teach writing, breaking the whole down into very detailed parts. The modes prevailed, certainly. I’m pretty sure my high school teachers (back in the 70s) must have known Bain personally and felt a responsibility to carry on his work--!
Despite his good intentions and the postive aspects of his contribution, however, I feel sorta limited when I think about his approach. I disagree with Hill that rhetoric is an art, not a science; it’s both, if you ask me. But I wonder, where’s the room for art in Bain’s way?
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