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.
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