Thinking about writing
Funny stuff from Jo Wolff.
Why is academic writing so boring? I am impatient by nature, easily irritated, and afflicted with a short attention span. That I ended up in a job where I have to spend half the day blinking my way through artless, contorted prose is a cruel twist of fate. But the upside is that it gives me plenty of opportunity to reflect on why reading academic writing is so often a chore and so rarely a joy…As far as I know there has been little, if any, literary analysis of academic writing…But, by chance, I recently read a short piece of literary theory, and, to use one of the two metaphors academics allow themselves, the scales fell from my eyes. (If you are wondering, the other metaphor is deftly deployed in the following: “In this column I shall view academic writing through the prism of literary theory”.)
I love that last bit because it includes the academically-obligatory and nonacademically-poisonous trope that Julian always cites as what The Philosophers’ Magazine (being a magazine not a journal) doesn’t want – that ‘In this column I shall’ item. Part of my job as deputy editor is telling contributors that we want a magazine style not a journal style, and explaining what that entails (and then sometimes explaining it again when we get a journal style anyway and have to ask for revisions). And in much the same vein, in writing Why Truth Matters we had to combine a decent amount of rigor with a style appropriate for a trade book. There were times when we actually got into quite detailed discussions of that – is this too much? Is this too academicky? Is this not academicky enough? We had disagreements about what we could assume people would understand – we have different starting ideas about that: I tend to think that people don’t like being talked down to too much, don’t like explanations of things they already know, and do like to be asked to reach a little; JS thinks people don’t like being made to feel stupid, and don’t like to be asked to reach too much. We were probably both right – some people fit his version better, some fit mine. We have had plenty of comments to the effect that the book is hard work, including some saying it’s a little too much hard work, or much too much hard work. But we’ve had others saying it was a workout but that that’s enjoyable. It’s worth thinking about this in case we write another book some day – and also just because the subject is interesting. Style is interesting; the question of what is interesting and what is boring is interesting.
The secret, apparently, is that good writing captures its reader by means of creating a tension between the plot and the story. The reader is shown enough of the narrative sequence to get an impression of what is going on, and to whet their appetite for more, but much is hidden. Suspense is created, and the reader is hooked until it is resolved…A very simple and effective technique…[I]t makes perfect sense to me, and also explains why academic writing is generally so much easier to put down than it is to pick up again. At least in my subject, we teach students to go sub-zero on the tension scale: to give the game away right from the start. A detective novel written by a good philosophy student would begin: “In this novel I shall show that the butler did it.” The rest will be just filling in the details.
That did make me laugh. And now I think about it…I realize there is a certain amount (a small amount) of tension in WTM. The first chapter doesn’t give the game away – the first chapter is slightly coy – the first chapter sets things up for the last one. I didn’t know that was a literary secret at the time, but I did it that way anyway. I suppose I simply figured I had to leave something for the last chapter to say, or else why have a last chapter?
Anyway – somebody just the other day found it ‘a delight to read’ – which to someone who herself likes to be delighted by what she reads is the kind of comment that makes writing worthwhile, and the attempt to figure out the difference between boring and interesting also worthwhile.
I find that as time goes on, I have to ratchet down my notion of what average intelligence or knowledgability is. My wife, who has much more contact with the average person than I do, helps in this regard. I frequently find myself saying something like, “I would think that they would know that …,” and my wife just laughs at me. She has even lower an opinion of the average sort than I do. I try to be optimistic, but it’s a challenge. Can you imagine what benefits we’d realize if we took half of “defense” spending and gave it to education?
Hm, I don’t know if the whodunnit element is such an important component of wanting to keep on reading. I think a book is more like a journey through a landscape. Sometimes you may be rushing to get to the destination; sometimes the rhythm and pace seem just right and push you along; sometimes there are wondrous sights on the way where you want to linger; sometimes you return because you rushed through the first time and want to revisit particular sights then find you start noticing more and more. But I skim the first time round and then re-read.
And I would say that the reason why academic writing is so bad is because many academics can’t write.
Yeah I was thinking about that after I wrote the post. It reminded me of an article at Inside Higher Ed which quoted some fool telling the author that he’d tried to read Pride and Prejudice but stopped after a few chapters because he could see what was coming – boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl.
Well really. That’s not all that happens! The stupid chump couldn’t in the least know what’s coming, and even in the case of what’s coming, the point is how, not that. And you could apply that to every novel worth reading – if you can’t apply it the novel isn’t worth reading.
So the theory itself (like so many products of ‘literary theory’) isn’t particularly impressive; but all the same Wolff made a funny piece out of it. And it is true that you wouldn’t want to read a few opening paragraphs that gave you a lot of ‘information’ about every character, so in that sense the theory does work.
I mean, there has to be a reason Julian doesn’t like that phrase…
Doug I am supprised that you need your wife to explain how stupid people can be,why do you think that ghost written horse manure by Hillary Clinton or David Beckham atracts multi million dollar advances and someone like O.B.cant even aford broadband,I doubt it would change if you halved defence spending you would still have stupid people but they would need to take a prayer rug to school with them!
Gosh gee, Richard, I think if the USA didn’t spend AS MUCH AS THE REST OF THE WORLD PUT TOGETHER
[ahem, wrong key pressed]
… on ‘defense’ they still might manage to keep a few thousand zealots from destroying the way of life of an entire civilisation.
I agree it was an entertaining piece and I would like to see someone try their hand at a whodunnit in that fashion. There’s With Malice Aforethought, isn’t there? which starts by stating that X killed his wife but you then read on to find out how and what happened to X. But I can see an eternal regression coming into being here.
Didn’t all (or most of) the Kojak TV episodes start with the audience seeing who dun it? And then watching Telly Savalas suck his way towards the answer.
I think this is my first comment here. Hallo!
“I think if the USA didn’t spend AS MUCH AS THE REST OF THE WORLD PUT TOGETHER on ‘defense’ they still might manage to keep a few thousand zealots from destroying the way of life of an entire civilisation.”
Don’t bother. Richard actually believes the Bush “we fight them over there so we don’t fight them over here” line. To do that in 2007 requires that you have not only drunk the Kool-Aid, you’ve been snorting the powder.
Don’t know about Kojak, but Columbo episodes usually start that way – the fun is in watching C figure it out for himself, while to usually-wealthy suspects wrinkle their noses at the crumpled ‘lootenant’, awaiting the ‘just one more question’ moment. Hard to replicate that in print…
Thanks for the link back to the book review on my Blog.
I actually raced through the book and laughed out loud more than once. I do hope that it was supposed to be funny in places?
I’m looking forward to your next book.
You’d think it would be impossible to turn people into better writers, but there’s a good book about how to write “serious” non-fiction. It’s Thinking Like Your Editor (Rabiner & Fortunato). Major point in the book–a writer has to wage a constant battle to stop the reader from putting the book down. Important strategy–don’t let the whole cat out of the bag “In this book, I will…” Yes, major disaster.
Hallo Nick!
Cyberkitten, thanks back. Yes it was definitely meant to be funny in places.
(Oddly enough, that was actually controversial at first; Jeremy was worried about my firmly stated opinion that it should not be completely humourless, especially that the overall tone or voice should not be that way. But I think that was because he thought Continuum wanted a more academic book than turned out to be the case. We argued about it though – I said even academic books are allowed to have traces of wit or an ironic voice – he wasn’t so sure. But I would never want to write a completely robotic book of that kind – it’s just not what I want to do with my life.)
Well, it most certainly had traces of wit or an ironic voice… actually more than just traces, which is why I found it to be both informative *and* entertaining.
Well thenk you – that is very nice to hear.
Thank God they do Dave!
You know what you would get if you spent that military budget on education? Fat and bloated education bureaucrats and academics. Pouring resources into moribund factories working with misplaced ideas didn’t work for the car and steel indutries in the 70s and I don’t see why it should be expected to work for education.
That idea sounds like the exact same quality of thinking that drives US military resource allocation.
Maybe we could have a bake sale…
Cris I so agree.
I will here add that I don’t believe that school education is completely screwed, but that what it needs to improve isn’t a bucket of dollars but better ideas. Firstly better motivation among the ordinary families and kids, and second advances on teaching ordinary, decent teachers how to move from doing a good job to doing a brilliant job.
Then give them more money too.
Of course you’re right, ChrisPer. The only thing worse than a fat and bloated military bureaucrat is a fat and bloated education bureaucrat. Bombs, not books!
No, give them the money first so the buildings don’t collapse around them while we sit with our thumbs up our behinds trying to think up “new ideas”.
Yep, the thing teachers need right now is new ideas.
Throwing money at education would only result in smaller classes, new schools, more resources and a decent training budget.
Last time a new idea was heralded at my place (applied kinesthetics) it took me a lot of time and energy to crush it like a bug.
Not saying that wasn’t fun, mind you.
I actually (mis)spent a few years teaching philosophy to average US college students many years ago, and that experience suggested to me that pouring a lot more dollars/pounds/euros into education probably won’t help much, at least in this area.
I was thinking the other day that very young children often come up with good questions about philosophy, religion, etc., such as “why do bad things happen if God is good and runs the world?” But they are quickly discouraged from pursuing them, in most cases, by their parents, Sunday school teachers, and the like, who don’t want to hear such questions and don’t want the dear tykes going in those directions.
Nevertheless, I think there is a reason why there are no child prodigy philosophers, as there are in fields such as music and math. It takes a good deal of discipline and training to come up with answers to those questions–and better questions–that are not childish.
I am becoming more and more tolerant of the mounds of rubbish one sees and hears about philosophical/religious questions on the internets and in the press when I realize that most people have never been exposed to real thinking in these fields. (The poor sods who get graduate degrees in these subjects and still spout nonsense, such as theologians, have no excuse.)
But even if they are so exposed, most religious people just have no interest in actually thinking about religion. They instinctively realize that it will lead to their “losing their faith” (dear me, where could I have put it? I’m sure I had it with me just the other day!), and they don’t want to do that. So they just refuse to think in this area, no matter how smart they are in others.
How about a compromise we build lots of new realy fancy weapons,sell them all around the world to all and sundry,then the money raised could be spent on education!
H mis spelled my own name.
Ha ha! War profiteering. That’s the soul of comedy right there.
Arms dealing as a school fund-raiser?
Been done.
http://www.markthomasinfo.com/nsarticles/default.asp?id=5
I think you may have misread the piece, Richard. The kids were part of the school’s Amnesty International group. They were doing it as a project to point out human rights abuses involving equipment sourced through UK.
The point MT was making about small arms was that they kill far more people than long range missiles, but are scarcely regulated in any effective way.
And since (barring accident or suicide) small arms tend to kill people other than the ones holding them, the fork analogy doesn’t really work.
Don I was joking.
Don you woulnt say cars kill people would you?
“The reader is shown enough of the narrative sequence to get an impression of what is going on, and to whet their appetite…..” This is a common error. Common, all too common. At least I believe it is: his, her, or his or her it should be. I have wanted to call myself “The Grammar Hammer” – who is still learning.