actually (adverb)
as an actual or existing fact; really. (Random House Unabridged Dictionary)
[False cognate warning: Francophones will sometimes mistakenly use “actually” (or actual)
when they mean currently, presently, at the moment and up to date.] allegory [. . .]
symbolic fictional narrative that conveys a second meaning (or meanings) beyond the explicit, literal details of the story (my definition, adapted from Merriam Webster's Encyclopedia of Literature). A simple allegory would be something like a story about Mary Whiteteeth and Johnny Toothbrush and their enemy named Sugar. The story, in this case, is not about these three characters but about the importance of brushing your teeth.
"[. . .] the term allegory can refer to specific method of reading a text."
IIn literature, an implied or indirect reference to a person, event, thing or a part of another text. [. . . ] Allusions to biblical
figures and figures from classical mythology are common in Western literature [. . .]. (Merriam Webster's Encyclopedia of
Literature)
Apocrypha (noun)
1. With a capital letter (Apocrypha) it means a group of 14 books, not considered canonical, included in the Septuagint
and the Vulgate as part of the Old Testament, but usually omitted from Protestant editions of the Bible.
2. various religious writings of uncertain origin regarded by some as inspired, but rejected by most authorities.
3. writings, statements, etc., of doubtful authorship or authenticity. (Random House Unabridged Dictionary)
The opposite would be the canon.
1. of doubtful authorship or authenticity.
2. of or pertaining to the Apocrypha, of doubtful sanction; uncanonical.
3. false; spurious: He told an apocryphal story about the sword, but the truth was later revealed. (Random House
Unabridged Dictionary)
comedy (noun)
1. a play, movie, etc., of light and humorous character with a happy or cheerful ending; a dramatic work in which the
central motif is the triumph over adverse circumstance, resulting in a successful or happy conclusion.
2. that branch of the drama which concerns itself with this form of composition.
3. the comic element of drama, of literature generally, or of life.
4. any literary composition dealing with a theme suitable for comedy, or employing the methods of comedy.
5. any comic or humorous incident or series of incidents. (Random House Unabridged Dictionary)
canon (noun)
5. a standard; criterion: the canons of taste.
6. the books of the Bible recognized by any Christian church as genuine and inspired.
7. any officially recognized set of sacred books.
8. any comprehensive list of books within a field.
9. the works of an author that have been accepted as authentic: There are 37 plays in the Shakespeare canon.
(Random House Unabridged Dictionary)
The opposite would be Apocrypha. The adjective form is "canonical."
Note that in literary studies the word "canon" has sometimes been used to identify those books considered to be part
of "great literature" and therefore worthy of study.
conceit (noun)
1. an excessively favorable opinion of one's own ability, importance, wit, etc.
2. something that is conceived in the mind; a thought; idea: He jotted down the conceits of his idle hours.
3. imagination; fancy.
4. a fancy; whim; fanciful notion.
5. an elaborate, fanciful metaphor, especially of a strained or far-fetched nature.
6. the use of such metaphors as a literary characteristic, esp. in poetry. (Random House Unabridged Dictionary)
Note: 5 and 6 (above) are the relevant definitions for literary studies.
1. to bring to a state of perfection; fulfill.
2. to complete (an arrangement, agreement, or the like) by a pledge or the signing of a contract: The company
consummated its deal to buy a smaller firm.
3. to complete (the union of a marriage) by the first marital sexual intercourse. (Random House Unabridged Dictionary)
courtly love
"A modern term for the literary cult of heterosexual love that emerged among the French aristocracy from the late 11th
century onwards, with a profound effect on subsequent Western attitudes to love. [ . . . .] An elaborate code of behaviour
emerged around the tormented male lover's abject obedience to a disdainful, idealized lady, who was usually his social
superior. [. . . .] this form of adoration also imitated both feudal servitude and Christian worship, despite celebrating the
excitements of clandestine adultery (as in stories of Lancelot and Guinevere) rather than the then merely economic
relationship of marriage" (The Concise Oxford Dictionary of Literary Terms). A philosophy of love and a code of lovemaking
which flourished in chivalric times, first in France and later in other countries, especially in England. The exact origins of
the system cannot be traced, but fashions set by the Provençal troubadours and ideas drawn from the
Orient and especially from Ovid were probably the chief sources. The conditions of the feudal society and the
veneration of the Virgin Mary, both of which tended to give a new dignity and veneration to woman,* also affected it.
[. . . .] Andreas Capellanus late in the twelfth century wrote a treatise in which he summarized prevailing notions of
courtly love through imaginary conversations and through his thirty-one "rules"** (A Handbook to Literature).
*Note that in some interpretations of history, the Catholic Church raised the profile and importance of the Blessed
Virgin in order to counter the growing popularity and influence of courtly love.**In recent times, Ellen Fein and Sherrie
Sneider wrote a series of popular books with the repeated title of The Rules instructing women on how to behave on
dates and in relationships with men."
coy (adjective)
1. artfully or affectedly shy or reserved; slyly hesitant; coquettish.
2. shy; modest.
3. showing reluctance, especially when insincere or affected, to reveal one's plans or opinions, make a commitment,
or take a stand (Random House Unabridged Dictionary)
If we deconstruct (that is, study the history) of the word “coy,” we will discover that it is most often applied to women. In fact,
being coy was for a long time considered part of traditional, typical and expected female behaviour. Being coy was considered
part of the “essence” of being a woman. Therefore, when a woman said “no,” it was understood that she really meant “yes.” The
word “coy” is a good example to demonstrate how sexism can be subtly inscribed in the language. In Romeo and Juliet, Juliet
actually apologizes to Romeo for her failing to be coy, but she tells him, “I’ll prove more true than those that have the cunning to
be strange.” “To be strange” here means the same thing as “to be coy.”
1. the husband of an unfaithful wife.
(verb)
2. to make a cuckold of (a husband).
[ allusion to the cuckoo's habit of laying its eggs in other birds' nests] (Random House Unabridged Dictionary)
a philosophical and critical movement, starting in the 1960s and especially applied to the study of literature, that questions all
traditional assumptions about the ability of language to represent reality and emphasizes that a text has no stable reference or
identification because words essentially only refer to other words [. . .] (Random House Unabridged Dictionary).
This term and its verb form, “to deconstruct,” are strongly associated with Jacques Derrida, a French philosopher, and a paper he
delivered in 1966 at Johns Hopkins University entitled “Structure, Sign and Play in the Discourse of the Human Sciences.” When
questioned after the presentation, Derrida defined deconstruction by saying: “Here or there I have used the word déconstruction,
which has nothing to do with destruction. That is to say, it is simply a question of (and this is the necessity of criticism in the
classical sense of the word) being alert to the implications, to the historical sedimentation of the language we use [. . .].” (Davis, Robert
Con ed. Contemporary Literary Criticism 497).
In Against Deconstruction, John M. Ellis pointed out that deconstruction turns out to be principally a movement against essentialism (35).
By deconstructing words, and therefore concepts, we discover that they are constructed over time within a culture and in relation to
other words. The meaning of a word does not come from its reference to an “essence” existing in reality and outside of language.
decorum ( noun)
1. dignified propriety of behavior, speech, dress, etc.
2. the quality or state of being decorous; orderliness; regularity.
3. Usually, decorums. an observance or requirement of polite society.
—Synonyms: politeness, manners, dignity. See etiquette.
1. of, pertaining to, or of the nature of logical argumentation.
2. dialectal.
–(noun).
3. the art or practice of logical discussion as employed in investigating the truth of a theory or opinion.
4. logical argumentation.
5. Often, dialectics.
a. logic or any of its branches.
b. any formal system of reasoning or thought.
6. See Hegelian dialectic.
dysphemism (noun)
1. the substitution of a harsh, disparaging, or unpleasant expression for a more neutral one.
2. an expression so substituted. (Random House Unabridged Dictionary)
The antonym (word meaning the opposite) is euphemism. Some examples of common dysphemisms are: "knocked up" (for pregnant),
"to fuck" (for " to have sexual intercourse"), "on the rag" (for "menstruating"), " pissed off" (for " angry").
dystopia (noun)
dystopian writing is exemplified in H.G. Wells's The Time Machine (1895) and George Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four (1949). (Concise
Oxford Dictionary of Literary Terms)
earnest (adjective)
1. serious in intention, purpose, or effort; sincerely zealous: an earnest worker.
2. showing depth and sincerity of feeling: earnest words; an earnest entreaty.
3. seriously important; demanding or receiving serious attention.
Synonyms: fervent, intent, purposeful, determined, industrious, ambitious. EARNEST, RESOLUTE, SERIOUS, SINCERE imply having
qualities of depth and firmness. EARNEST implies having a purpose and being steadily and soberly eager in pursuing it: an earnest
student. RESOLUTE adds a quality of determination: resolute in defending the right. SERIOUS implies having depth and a soberness
of attitude that contrasts with gaiety and frivolity; it may include the qualities of both earnestness and resolution: serious and thoughtful.
SINCERE suggests genuineness, trustworthiness, and absence of superficiality: a sincere interest in music. (Random House
Unabridged Dictionary)
essay (noun)
a short written composition in prose that discusses a subject or proposes an argument without claiming to be a complete or thorough
exposition. A minor literary form, the essay is more relaxed than the formal academic dissertation. The term ('trying out') was coined by
the French writer Michel de Montaigne in the tile of his Essais (1580), the first modern example of the form. Francis Bacon's Essays
(1597) began the tradition of essays in English. (Concise Oxford Dictionary of Literary Terms)
essentialism
The idea that words get their meanings from one-to-one correspondence with the “essences” of objects in the world.
1. conventional requirements as to social behavior; proprieties of conduct as established in any class or community or for any occasion.
2. a prescribed or accepted code of usage in matters of ceremony, as at a court or in official or other formal observances.
3. the code of ethical behavior regarding professional practice or action among the members of a profession in their dealings with each
other: medical etiquette.
ETIQUETTE refers to conventional forms and usages: the rules of etiquette. DECORUM suggests dignity and a sense of what is
becoming or appropriate for a person of good breeding: a fine sense of decorum. PROPRIETY (usually plural) implies established conventions of morals and good taste: She never fails to observe the proprieties.
ethnocentrism (noun)
1. the belief in the inherent superiority of one's own ethnic group or culture.
2. a tendency to view alien groups or cultures from the perspective of one's own.
(Random House Unabridged Dictionary)
etymology (noun)
1. the derivation of a word.
2. an account of the history of a particular word or element of a word.
3. the study of historical linguistic change, esp. as manifested in individual words
(Random House Unabridged Dictionary)
euphemism (noun)
1. the substitution of a mild, indirect, or vague expression for one thought to be offensive, harsh, or blunt.
2. the expression so substituted: "To pass away'" is a euphemism for "to die." (Random House Unabridged Dictionary)
The antonym (word meaning the opposite) is dysphemism. Some examples of euphemisms are: "being in a family way" (for "pregnant")
"having her lady's time" (for menstruating), "making love" or "being intimate" (for "having sexual intercourse"), "powder room" (for "toilet")
fate (noun)
1. something that unavoidably befalls a person; fortune; lot: It is always his fate to be left behind.
2. the universal principle or ultimate agency by which the order of things is presumably prescribed; the decreed cause of events; time:
Fate decreed that they would never meet again.
3. that which is inevitably predetermined; destiny: Death is our ineluctable fate.
4. a prophetic declaration of what must be: The oracle pronounced their fate.
5. death, destruction, or ruin.
6. the Fates, in Classical Mythology, three goddesses of destiny, known to the Greeks as the Moerae and to the Romans as the Parcae.
(Random House Unabridged Dictionary)
spiritual belief). Fate is often an important theme in tragedy. We see this theme in Oedipus, the King and Romeo and
Juliet. Some readers might also see the theme of fate in Streetcar Named Desire.
genre (noun)
A type or category of literature or film marked by certain shared features or conventions. The three broadest categories of genre include
poetry, drama, and fiction. These general genres are often subdivided into more specific genres and subgenres. For instance, precise examples of genres might include murder mysteries, westerns, sonnets, lyric poetry, epics, tragedies, etc. Bookstores, libraries, and services like Redbox or Netflix may label and subdivide their books or films into genres for the convenience of shoppers seeking a specific category of literature. (Literary Terms and Definitions at http://web.cn.edu/kwheeler/lit_terms_G.html)
I have typically listed the literary genres as poetry, drama and prose, with prose divided in fiction and non-fiction, fiction into novels and
short stories. As you can see the number of genres can quickly expand and become a bit chaotic. I have found it useful to offer this pie
chart to illustrate the differences and connections among tragedy, comedy, satire and melodrama--the most typical genres of drama and
fiction.
Comedy and tragedy are in direct opposition to each other in terms of their most typical features; nonetheless, there is a genre called
tragicomedy which incorporates features of both. Satire and melodrama are directly opposed to each other, but G.B. Shaw labelled his
play The Devil's Disciple "a melodrama," while intending it to be a satire. All variations are possible. However, the line between
side-by-side genres is sometimes blurry and often debated when it comes time to categorize a specific literary work. For example,
historically some critics have claimed that the play, Streetcar Named Desire isn't a tragedy, but that it is a melodrama. Both genres
share intense emotions as a potential feature. A melodrama shares features of both tragedy and comedy. Some comedies seem close
to melodrama, in particular, if they are love stories. We typically categorize these plays, films and stories as romantic comedies. Some
satires lean strongly toward comedy, like the short stories and novels of Kurt Vonnegut. Some satires lean toward tragedy like Orwell's
1984 and Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale.
The pie chart is useful in clarifying some of what is going on in the film adaptations of literary works; i.e. how much a work is being
transformed and effects of specific changes. For example, Kurt Vonnegut's short story "Who am this time?" is a comic satire, but is
transformed into a romantic comedy in the TV movie of the same name. By changing the ending of the play in the film version, Elia
Kazen transformed Streetcar Named Desire from a tragedy with satiric leanings into a melodrama. Film adaptation of A Handmaid's
Tale transformed the story into a melodrama, and so on.
grammar (noun)
1. the study of the way the sentences of a language are constructed; morphology and syntax.
2. these features or constructions themselves: English grammar.
3. an account of these features; a set of rules accounting for these constructions: a grammar of English.
4. Generative Grammar. a device, as a body of rules, whose output is all of the sentences that are permissible in a given language,
while excluding all those that are not permissible.
5. See prescriptive grammar.
6. knowledge or usage of the preferred or prescribed forms in speaking or writing: She said his grammar was terrible.
7. the elements of any science, art, or subject.
8. a book treating such elements. (Random House Unabridged Dictionary)
haste (noun)
1. swiftness of motion; speed; celerity: He performed his task with great haste. They felt the need for haste.
2. urgent need of quick action; a hurry or rush: to be in haste to get ahead in the world.
3. unnecessarily quick action; thoughtless, rash, or undue speed: Haste makes waste. (Random House Unabridged Dictionary)
Adjective form is "hasty." Traditional expression "to make haste" means "to hurry" or "to rush."
an interpretive method, originally used to relate specific entities or events to the absolute idea, in which some assertible proposition
(thesis) is necessarily opposed by an equally assertible and apparently contradictory proposition (antithesis), the mutual contradiction
being reconciled on a higher level of truth by a third proposition (synthesis).
hegemony (noun)
"the OED defines that which is 'hegemonic' as 'the ruling part, the master-principle'. Often used to refer to power which is so dominant
that it appears unquestionable, even natural" ("Glossary." Allen, Graham. Intertextuality).
hermeneutics (noun)
The science of interpretation.
heterosexual ( adjective)
1. of, pertaining to, or exhibiting heterosexuality.
2. Biol. pertaining to the opposite sex or to both sexes.
–n.
3. a heterosexual person.
heterosexuality (noun)
sexual feeling or behavior directed toward a person or persons of the opposite sex.
hyperbole (noun)
A figure of speech that is an intentional exaggeration for emphasis or comic effect. (Merriam Webster's Encyclopedia of Literature)
hypocrisy (noun)
1. a pretense of having a virtuous character, moral or religious beliefs or principles, etc., that one does not really possess.
2. a pretense of having some desirable or publicly approved attitude.
hypocrite (noun)
1. a person who pretends to have virtues, moral or religious beliefs, principles, etc., that he or she does not actually possess, esp. a
person whose actions belie stated beliefs.
2. a person who feigns some desirable or publicly approved attitude, esp. one whose private life, opinions, or statements belie his or her
public statements.
—hypocritical (adjective)
—hypocritically (adverb)
—Synonyms: deceiver, dissembler, pretender, pharisee.
1.the body of doctrine, myth, belief, etc., that guides an individual, social movement, institution, class, or large group.
2. such a body of doctrine, myth, etc., with reference to some political and social plan, as that of fascism, along with the devices for
putting it into operation.
3. in philosophy, the study of the nature and origin of ideas.a system that derives ideas exclusively from sensation.
4. theorizing of a visionary or impractical nature. (Random House Unabridged Dictionary)
in his book Ideology: An Introduction, Terry Eagleton describes ideology as follows: " A dominant power may legitimate itself by
promoting beliefs and values congenial to it; naturalizing and universalizing such beliefs so as to render them self-evident and
apparently inevitable; denigrating ideas which might challenge it; excluding rival forms of thought, perhaps by some unspoken but
systematic logic; and obscuring social reality in ways convenient to itself. Such `mystification', as it is commonly known, frequently
takes the form of masking or suppressing social conflicts, from which arises the conception of ideology as an imaginary resolution of
real contradictions" (5-6).
intertextuality (noun)
a term coined by Julia Kristeva to designate the various relationships that a given text may have with other texts. These intertextual relationships include anagram, allusion, adaptation, translation, parody, pastiche, imitation and other kinds of transformation. The literary theories of structuralism and post-structuralism, texts are seen to refer to other texts (or to themselves as texts) rather than to external reality. The term intertext has been used variously for a text drawing on other texts, for a text thus drawn upon, and for the
relationship between both. (Concise Oxford Dictionary of Literary Terms)
In Intertextuality, Graham Allen describes "intertextuality" in the opening of the book this way:
irony (noun)
The three traditional types of irony are:
i) verbal irony, saying something but you mean something else, sometimes the opposite (antiphrasis); this is the dictionary definition
(i.e., opposite meaning) but this is rare in real life and literature. When people think of "irony," what often comes to mind is "sarcasm,"
which is a low form of verbal irony.
ii) situational irony; when the opposite of what we expect to happen happens; also called the irony of fate; this strongly applies to
Oedipus, the King
iii) dramatic irony; so-called because it often occurs in plays (theatre, film and TV); a situation becomes amusing because we know
something that one or more of the characters doesn’t; example, John starts talking to his wife Mary about his “good friend” Steven
while Steven is hiding in the bedroom closet
Linda Hutcheon, in Irony's Edge, describes what she calls "semantic irony" as always having two meanings and those meanings rub
against each other. What is the final meaning of an ironic statement? Consider the rabbit/duck image:
As with the duck/rabbit image, irony “happens” when we are faced with two or more meanings and they conflict with each other.
We have to hold on to both (or all) the meanings.
The problem with these various descriptions and types of irony (verbal, situational, dramatic, semantic) is that they all seem so
different from one another. In my own thinking, Paul de Man's description of irony as an extended form of "parabasis" (179) is useful
because it is more encompassing and comprehensive than anything else I have encountered. "Parabasis," in de Man's words, "is the
interruption of a discourse by a shift in rhetorical register" (178).
I see the shift of register (of say from a serious tone to comic or vice versa, or maybe religious register to scientific, or formal to
vernacular) as the key to signaling verbal irony. The idea of "the interruption of a discourse" goes a long way in describing all forms
of irony. "Discourse" in a basic sense is just the way sentences are held or glued together with expression like "on the other hand,"
"however," "additionally" and "in conclusion." A discourse can be something broader and vaguer like the theme of a composition or
speech which we can demonstrate by noting repeated words, synonyms or concepts. Putting something into a speech that contracts
or seems to mock the seriousness of your own theme can be called "ironic." A "narrative discourse" is how a story is held together,
usually through a build-up of expectations based on the formulas that stories often follow or thematic elements and the ethos of the
characters. Irony in this case is a particular twist in the story that contradicts expectation in a particularly sharp, incisive, poetic and
surprising way; i.e, "situational irony." To reach my conclusion I have to invent another form of discourse, which I would have to call
"mental discourse" which is a mental construct of our expectations which erases the absolute distinction between a discourse and a
situation. Imagine you are looking out the window on a cold, rainy, sleet-filled day and a friend sidles up beside you and says
"Beautiful weather." You both know that he is being ironic because his comment contradicts, is incongruous in, this situation. I would
describe this situation as a "mental discourse" of expectations which his comment "interrupts." The same argument can be applied to
dramatic irony.
You might argue that the "interruption of a discourse" could be something random rather than ironic. I have noticed that many
instances of what I would call "ironic" and consequently comic or dramatic, my son and his cohort call "random." The ironic and
the random are clearly on the same axis.
To return to the pedagogical issue discussed in my posting on irony (Do No Harm Part II: Avoid Irony), keep in mind, that if you
employ irony in your teaching or lecturing, you are "interrupting" your own discourse.
literal (adjective)
1. in accordance with, involving, or being the primary or strict meaning of the word or words; not figurative or metaphorical: the
literal meaning of a word.
2. following the words of the original very closely and exactly: a literal translation of Goethe.
3. true to fact; not exaggerated; actual or factual: a literal description of conditions.
4. being actually such, without exaggeration or inaccuracy: the literal extermination of a city.
5. (of persons) tending to construe words in the strict sense or in an unimaginative way; matter-of-fact; prosaic. (Random House
Unabridged Dictionary)
literary (adjective)
1. pertaining to or of the nature of books and writings, especially those classed as literature: literary history.
2. pertaining to authorship: literary style.
3. versed in or acquainted with literature; well-read. (Random House Unabridged Dictionary)
1. a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person.
2. a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as for a parent, child, or friend.
3. sexual passion or desire.
4. a person toward whom love is felt; beloved person; sweetheart.
5. (used in direct address as a term of endearment, affection, or the like): Would you like to see a movie, love?
6. a love affair; an intensely amorous incident; amour.
7. sexual intercourse; copulation.
8. (cap.) a personification of sexual affection, as Eros or Cupid.
9. affectionate concern for the well-being of others: the love of one's neighbor.
10. strong predilection, enthusiasm, or liking for anything: her love of books.
11. the object or thing so liked: The theater was her great love.
12. the benevolent affection of God for His creatures, or the reverent affection due from them to God.
13. Chiefly Tennis. a score of zero; nothing.
14. a word formerly used in communications to represent the letter L.
15. for love,
a. out of affection or liking; for pleasure.
b. without compensation; gratuitously: He took care of the poor for love.
16. for the love of, in consideration of; for the sake of: For the love of mercy, stop that noise.
17. in love, infused with or feeling deep affection or passion: a youth always in love.
18. in love with, feeling deep affection or passion for (a person, idea, occupation, etc.); enamored of: in love with the girl next door;
in love with one's work.
19. make love,
a. to embrace and kiss as lovers.
b. to engage in sexual activity.
20. no love lost, dislike; animosity: There was no love lost between the two brothers.
–v.t.
21. to have love or affection for: All her pupils love her.
22. to have a profoundly tender, passionate affection for (another person).
23. to have a strong liking for; take great pleasure in: to love music.
24. to need or require; benefit greatly from: Plants love sunlight.
25. to embrace and kiss (someone), as a lover.
26. to have sexual intercourse with.
–v.i.
27. to have love or affection for another person; be in love.
28. love up, to hug and cuddle: She loves him up every chance she gets.
—Syn. 1. tenderness, fondness, predilection, warmth, passion, adoration. 1, 2. LOVE, AFFECTION, DEVOTION all mean a deep
and enduring emotional regard, usually for another person. LOVE may apply to various kinds of regard: the charity of the Creator,
reverent adoration toward God or toward a person, the relation of parent and child, the regard of friends for each other, romantic
feelings for another person, etc. AFFECTION is a fondness for others that is enduring and tender, but calm. DEVOTION is an i
ntense love and steadfast, enduring loyalty to a person; it may also imply consecration to a cause. 2. liking, inclination, regard,
friendliness. 21. like. 22. adore, adulate, worship.
—Ant. 1, 2. hatred, dislike. 21, 22. detest, hate. (Random House Unabridged Dictionary)
1. the hymen.
2. maidenhood; virginity.
metaphor (noun)
1. a figure of speech in which a term or phrase is applied to something to which it is not literally applicable in order to suggest a
resemblance, as in "A mighty fortress is our God.'
2. something used, or regarded as being used, to represent something else; emblem; symbol (Random House Unabridged Dictionary).
metaphysical (adjective)
1.pertaining to or of the nature of metaphysics.
2. In philosophy: concerned with abstract thought or subjects, as existence, causality, or truth. Concerned with first principles and
ultimate grounds, as being, time, or substance.
3. highly abstract, subtle, or abstruse.
4. designating or pertaining to the poetry of an early group of 17th-century English poets, notably John Donne, whose characteristic
style is highly intellectual and philosophical and features intensive use of ingenious conceits and turns of wit
metonym (noun)
a figure of speech that consists of the use of the name of one object or concept for that of another to which it is related, or of which it is
a part, as "scepter' for "sovereignty,' or "the bottle' for "strong drink,' or "count heads (or noses)' for "count people." (Random House
Unabridged Dictionary)
See Wikipedia for a discussion of the concept of metonymy, as opposed to metaphor, and its importance in cognition and linguistics.
Few terms are so important to the student of literature--and so difficult--as this one. [. . . .] Both neoclassicists and romanticists would
"follow Nature"; but the former drew from the term ideas of order, regularity, and universality, both in "external" nature and in human
nature, while the latter found in nature the justification for their enthusiasm for irregularity ('wildness") in external nature and for
individualism in human nature. Other contradictory senses may be noted: the term nature might mean, on the one hand, human
nature (typical human behavior), or, on the other hand, whatever is antithetical to human nature and human works--ahs has not been
"spoiled" by human beings. (A Handbook to Literature)
novel (noun)
a prose narrative fiction of considerable length and complexity
oxymoron (noun)
a figure of speech which seems incongruous or contradictory, or has a seemingly self-contradictory effect, as in "cruel kindness' or "to
make haste slowly." (Random House Unabridged Dictionary)
In the poem "To His Coy Mistress," "vegetable love" is an example of an oxymoron. In Romeo and Juliet, Juliet tells Romeo that
"parting is such sweet sorrow." "Sweet sorrow" has become the most famous oxymoron in English literature. (Random House
Unabridged Dictionary)
A philosophic-religious attitude which finds the spirit of God manifest in all things and which holds that whereas all things speak the
glory of God it is equally true that the glory of God is made up of all things. Finite objects are at once both God and the manifestation
of God. The term is impossible to define exactly since it is so personal a conviction as to be differently interpreted by different
philosophers but for its literary significance, it is clearly enough described as an ardent faith in NATURE as both the revelation of
deity and deity itself. (A Handbook to Literature)
personification (noun)
1. the attribution of a personal nature or character to inanimate objects or abstract notions, esp. as a rhetorical figure.
2. the representation of a thing or abstraction in the form of a person, as in art.
3. the person or thing embodying a quality or the like; an embodiment or incarnation: He is the personification of tact.
4. an imaginary person or creature conceived or figured to represent a thing or abstraction. (Random House Unabridged Dictionary)
play (noun)
1. a dramatic composition or piece; drama.
2. a dramatic performance, as on the stage. (Random House Unabridged Dictionary)
poem (noun)
a composition in verse
postmodernism (noun)
term used to designate a multitude of trends in the arts, philosophy, religion, technology, and many other areas that come after and
deviate from the many 20th-century movements that constituted modernism. [. . .. ] Widely debated with regard to its meaning and
implications, postmodernism has also been said to relate to the culture of capitalism as it has developed since the 1960s. In general,
the postmodern view is cool, ironic, and accepting of the fragmentation of contemporary existence. It tends to concentrate on surfaces
rather than depths, to blur the distinctions between high and low culture, and as a whole to challenge a wide variety of traditional
cultural values. (The Columbia Encyclopedia, Sixth Edition)
poststructuralism (noun)
Any of various theories or methods of analysis, including deconstruction and some psychoanalytic theories, that deny the validity of
structuralism's method of binary opposition and maintain that meanings and intellectual categories are shifting and unstable. (The
American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition.)
promiscuity (noun)
1. the state of being promiscuous.
2. promiscuous sexual behavior.
3. an indiscriminate mixture.
1. characterized by or involving indiscriminate mingling or association, esp. having sexual relations with a number of partners on a
casual basis.
2. consisting of parts, elements, or individuals of different kinds brought together without order.
3. indiscriminate; without discrimination.
4. casual; irregular; haphazard.
—Syn. 1. unchaste. 2. hodgepodge, confused, mixed, jumbled. See miscellaneous. 3. careless.
—Ant. 1, 2. pure. 3. selective.
1. conformity to established standards of good or proper behavior or manners.
2. appropriateness to the purpose or circumstances; suitability.
3. rightness or justness.
4. the proprieties, the conventional standards of proper behavior; manners: to observe the proprieties.
—Synonyms: decency, modesty. See etiquette. 2. aptness, fitness, seemliness. 3. correctness.
psychoanalysis ( noun)
1. a systematic structure of theories concerning the relation of conscious and unconscious psychological processes.
2. a technical procedure for investigating unconscious mental processes and for treating psychoneuroses. (Random House
Unabridged Dictionary)
pun (noun)
1. the humorous use of a word or phrase so as to emphasize or suggest its different meanings or applications, or the use of words
that are alike or nearly alike in sound but different in meaning; a play on words.
2. the word or phrase used in this way.
(verb)
3. to make puns. (Random House Unabridged Dictionary)
For examples and further discussion see: http://grammar.about.com/od/pq/g/punterm.htm
Puritan (noun)
1. a member of a group of Protestants that arose in the 16th century within the Church of England, demanding the simplifications
of doctrine and worship, and greater strictness in religious discipline: during part of the 17th century the Puritans became a powerful
political party.
2. a person who is strict in moral or religious matters, often excessively so. (Random House Unabridged Dictionary)
Note: When referring to a member of this religious group, "Puritan" is capitalized. When referring to someone who is "strict in moral
or religious matters" but not a member of the religious group, "puritan" is in lower case. The adjective form is "puritanical."
quenchen (verb)
Middle English verb meaning "quench, extinguish, put an end to." ("Glossary." The Works of Geoffrey Chaucer. 2nd Edtion, edited
by F.N. Robinson. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1957.)
queynte (noun)
"pudendum" [that is, female genitalia, vulva, vagina] ("Glossary." The Works of Geoffrey Chaucer. 2nd Edtion, edited by F.N. Robinson.
Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1957.)
Note: the word is derived from the verb "quenchen."
queynte (adjective)
"strange, curious, curiously contrived; elaborate, ornamented; neat; artful, sly; graceful; 'make it queynte,' be offish or disdainful, make
it strange or difficult; also show pleasure or satisfaction. ("Glossary." The Works of Geoffrey Chaucer. 2nd Edtion, edited by F.N.
Robinson. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1957.)
Note we can see both the noun and adjective forms of the Middle English word "queynte" in the description of Nicolas's first attempt
to make a pass at Alyson in "The Miller's Tale":
raisonneur (noun)
A character in a drama who is the level-headed, calm personification of reason and logical action. (A Handbook to Literature)
restoration (noun)
1. the act of restoring; renewal, revival, or reestablishment.
2. the state or fact of being restored.
3. a return of something to a former, original, normal, or unimpaired condition.
4. restitution of something taken away or lost.
5. something that is restored, as by renovating.
6. a reconstruction or reproduction of an ancient building, extinct animal, or the like, showing it in its original state.
7. a putting back into a former position, dignity, etc.
8. Dentistry.
a. the work, process, or result of replacing or restoring teeth or parts of teeth.
b. something that restores or replaces teeth or parts of teeth, as a filling, crown, or denture.
9. the Restoration,
a. the re-establishment of the monarchy in England with the return of Charles II in 1660.
b. the period of the reign of Charles II (1660–85), sometimes extended to include the reign of James II (1685–88).
–adj.
10. (cap) of, pertaining to, or characteristic of the Restoration: Restoration manners.
Restoration comedy
English comedy of the period of the Restoration, stressing manners and social satire.
rhetoric (noun)
1. (in writing or speech) the undue use of exaggeration or display; bombast.
2. the art or science of all specialized literary uses of language in prose or verse, including the figures of speech.
3. the study of the effective use of language.
4. the ability to use language effectively.
5. the art of prose in general as opposed to verse.
6. the art of making persuasive speeches; oratory.
7. (in classical oratory) the art of influencing the thought and conduct of an audience.
(Random House Unabridged Dictionary)
"a text which ridicules [mocks] or ironically comments on socially recognizable tendencies [and the tendencies of a society] or the
style or form of another text or author" ("Glossary." Allen, Graham. Intertextuality).
scabbard (noun)
The holster or case in which the blade of a sword or dagger is kept; a sheath. The English word "vagina" (1682) and the French word
"vagin" derive from the Latin "vagin" or "vagino" meaning scabbord or sheath. Pictures of scabbards and swords.
semiotics, or semiolgogy
"The systematic study of signs, or, more precisely, of the production of meanings from sign-systems, linguistic or non-linguistic"
(Baldick, Chris. Concise Oxford Dictionary of Literary Terms). "Sign-systems can be any recognizable field of human communication.
Clothing might signify withing the cultural fashion system, for example. semiotics and semiology as developed in structuralism and
poststructuralism can treat anything emanating from a signifying system as a text to be read" (Allen, Graham. Intertextuality. "Glossary.").
short story (noun)
a piece of prose fiction, usually under 10,000 words. (Random House Unabridged Dictionary)
shrift (noun)
1. the imposition of penance by a priest on a penitent after confession.
2. absolution or remission of sins granted after confession and penance.
3. confession to a priest. (Random House Unabridged Dictionary)
simile (noun)
a figure of speech in which two unlike things are explicitly compared, as in "she is like a rose." (Random House Unabridged Dictionary)
structuralism (noun)
1. any theory that embodies structural principles.
2. See structural anthropology.
3. See structural linguistics." a movement which stems particularly from Saussure's vision of semiology, the study of all the
sign-systems operative in culture. Structuralism took texts, from works of literature to aspects of everyday communication, and
accounted for them in terms of the system from which they were produced" ("Glossary." Allen, Graham. Intertextuality. )
structural anthropology
a school of anthropology founded by Claude Lévi-Strauss and based loosely on the principles of structural linguistics
structural linguistics
1. approach to language study in which a language is analyzed as an independent network of formal systems, each of which is
composed of elements that are defined in terms of their contrasts with other elements in the system. (Random House Unabridged
Dictionary)
tragedy (noun)
1. a dramatic composition, often in verse, dealing with a serious or somber theme, typically that of a great person destined through a
flaw of character or conflict with some overpowering force, as fate or society, to downfall or destruction.
2. the branch of the drama that is concerned with this form of composition.
3. the art and theory of writing and producing tragedies.
4. any literary composition, as a novel, dealing with a somber theme carried to a tragic conclusion.
5. the tragic element of drama, of literature generally, or of life.
6. a lamentable, dreadful, or fatal event or affair; calamity; disaster: the tragedy of war.
[[ goat + song; reason for name variously explained] (Random House Unabridged Dictionary)
transtextuality (noun)
" . . . all that sets the text in a relationship, whether obvious or concealed, with other texts" (Genette, Gérard. Palimpsests: Literature
in the Second Degree). Genette's term "transtextuality" is his particular variation on the idea most other critics call intertextuality. He
reduces the term intertextuality to "a relationship of copresence between two texts or among several texts . . . the actual presence
of one text within another." ("Glossary." Allen, Graham. Intertextuality. )
Genette categories the various forms of transtextuality; that is, all the possible relations between two texts, as follows:
i) intertextuality: quotation, allusion and plagiarism
ii) paratextuality: titles, covers, epigraphs, introductions
iii) metatextual: a critical relationship
iv) architextuality: genre suggested by title
v) hypertextuality: hypertext to hypotext; film adaptations are often described as "hypertexts" with the literary upon which the film is
based called a "hypotext"
Utopia [or utopia] (noun)
1. an imaginary island described in Sir Thomas More's Utopia (1516) as enjoying perfection in law, politics, etc.
2. an ideal place or state.
3. any visionary system of political or social perfection. (Random House Unabridged Dictionary)
[literally, "utopia" = no where]
woo (verb)
to seek the favor [favour], affection, or love of, especially with a view to marriage.
Synonyms: court, pursue, chase.
Origin: before 1050; Middle English "wowe," Old English "wōgian" (Dictionary.com Unabridged
Based on the Random House Dictionary, © Random House, Inc. 2015.)
As discussed in my earlier posting, "How to Make Love to a Logophile," until the 1920s the expression "to make love" meant "to court"
or "to woo." "Woo" is used a half dozen times in Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. My favourite instance occurs when Juliet realizes
that she has not followed the proper feminine behaviour according to the rules of courtly love and tells Romeo:
"[. . .]if thou think'st I am too quickly won,
I'll frown and be perverse an say thee nay,
So thou wilt woo; [. . .]"
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Thursday 1 January 2015
The Sour Glossary
Wednesday 17 December 2014
How Should Teachers Be Evaluated?
In nearly 40 years of teaching in various institutions I have never encountered a teacher who enjoyed being evaluated. I have been both a teacher under evaluation and an evaluator of other teachers. As a teacher I have never received an evaluation less than above average and in the last half of my career my evaluations were consistently excellent, yet I still cannot say that I approve of teacher evaluations.
In theory the purpose of evaluating teachers is to improve education. In practice I have never seen evidence of this cause and effect, but I have witnessed plenty of evidence to the contrary. Education is a very complicated business and there is no simple, efficient and effective way of determining how one teacher’s performance can affect outcomes. Assessing student outcomes in order to evaluate teachers is simply unfair and counter-productive--it leads to “teaching for the test,” the marginalization of weaker student cohorts and rests on two false assumption: 1) that the ways students are tested are magically perfect measures of everything a student has learned and can do, and 2) that teachers are uniquely, 100% responsible for student learning.
In addition to student outcomes, there are a number of other ways that teachers can be evaluated: administratively (punctuality, assiduousness, dress and comportment, etc) , or through self evaluation, or via cv and documentation (certified activities to improve pedagogical skills), through peer evaluation, class-room observations and student evaluations. I have dealt with each of these approaches over the years without ever coming away with the impression that the process was achieving its objectives. To my surprise, while trying to defend lecturers in the programs I was supervising against the nasty notes the Department Chair was sending to any part-timer who scored below average on student evaluations, I discovered that my University’s policy, on the books, was to include all of these approaches when evaluating any professor or lecturer. In practice the only evaluation that the Department actually carried out on a regular basis was the student evaluation. Here we have the basic problem with teacher evaluations, why they invariably go awry, no-one is interested in following through with the extensive procedures that would be necessary to make the evaluations credible. Even if people were interested and determined enough to follow the various necessary procedures, they would find themselves dedicating most of the institution’s time, energy and resources to assessing teachers instead of educating students. In the end, teacher evaluations are simply a means of turning teachers into scapegoats for everything that is wrong in the educational system, not to mention the problems of society at large.
Anyone who has ever stood at the front of a classroom should realize that teachers are being evaluated, measured and assessed by multiple gazes every minute of their teaching day. Why should teachers be evaluated when so many other professionals aren’t and no-one is interested in even attempting to ensure that they are evaluated thoroughly and fairly? Why does the issue keep coming up? Mostly, it’s self-fulfilling prophecy. We know that teachers are not well paid for the value of the work they do, and consequently Faculties of Education tend to attract the bottom of the barrel of University admissions. The universities then exacerbate the problem by adopting a business model which dictates that they produce as many B.Ed.s as possible, the sausage-factory mentality, ignoring both the need for and the quality of what they are producing. We then assume--quite wrongly, by the way--that the teachers who are produced under these circumstances can’t be very good and we therefore have to vigilantly assess them after the fact, as if there were some kind of recall mechanism in place to eliminate or repair defective teachers--which, of course, there isn’t (unless you believe in the Government of Manitoba’s plan to force teachers to re-quality for their jobs every five years). Contrary to the logic of the situation, skilled, determined, dedicated, effective, intelligent teachers do emerge year after year, not because of but in spite of the system. Those teachers would, no doubt, like to be recognized, acknowledged, celebrated and rewarded, which brings us back to the many failures of how teachers have historically been evaluated, and the negative or inconsequent results of those evaluations. There’s more to come on this subject.
The Greatness Trap: Why Good Is Good
You might have noticed that I am fixated on the expression “good teachers.” All good teachers aspire to be great. If you are consistently good, you can be sure that eventually one of your students will announce to you that you are a “great teacher.” Accept the compliment graciously because your hard work deserves at least some of it, because these monumental moments are the real payday in a teacher's life, and because, according to the French aphorism, “To refuse a compliment is to demand a second.” At the same time, good teachers need to remain wary of how "greatness" can be a trap.
Do I sound like I'm talking to myself? Yes, sort of, but I hope I was able to spot the signs of my own hubris and overcome it expeditiously. Once upon a time, the Maclean's Guide to Canadian Universities used to publish a section called "Popular Profs" in which my name was listed along with three others from my university. (I would eventually realize that popularity is the kiss of death to a university career. 1) After a former student called me to alert me that I had been named in Macleans, I did wander around for a few days (or was it weeks?) thinking "Wow, I must be a great prof!" Slowly it began to dawn on me: "Okay, you're great! So now what?"
Thought number two: "If I'm already a great teacher, I shouldn't have to work so hard."
Thought number three wasn't really a thought; it was a behaviour. A behaviour that caused me to look up a word in the dictionary, a word I already knew but I now had a more profound understanding of: "mannered." It means to be artificial, stilted, unnatural. I was becoming mannered because I was trying to imitate myself, trying to repeat those small excentricities, warm tones of voice, empathetic glances, magnanimous gestures and concerned postures that I thought had made me popular. As I recognized what I was doing, I also realized that I was spending way too much time thinking about myself, instead of what I was supposed to be thinking about, my students and what I was teaching. It was time to simply acknowledge that I was lucky, to appreciate and make the best of my good luck, and get back to doing what good teachers do.
Hubris (the pride that comes before a fall) is only half the story of the "greatness" trap.
Do I sound like I'm talking to myself? Yes, sort of, but I hope I was able to spot the signs of my own hubris and overcome it expeditiously. Once upon a time, the Maclean's Guide to Canadian Universities used to publish a section called "Popular Profs" in which my name was listed along with three others from my university. (I would eventually realize that popularity is the kiss of death to a university career. 1) After a former student called me to alert me that I had been named in Macleans, I did wander around for a few days (or was it weeks?) thinking "Wow, I must be a great prof!" Slowly it began to dawn on me: "Okay, you're great! So now what?"
Thought number two: "If I'm already a great teacher, I shouldn't have to work so hard."
Thought number three wasn't really a thought; it was a behaviour. A behaviour that caused me to look up a word in the dictionary, a word I already knew but I now had a more profound understanding of: "mannered." It means to be artificial, stilted, unnatural. I was becoming mannered because I was trying to imitate myself, trying to repeat those small excentricities, warm tones of voice, empathetic glances, magnanimous gestures and concerned postures that I thought had made me popular. As I recognized what I was doing, I also realized that I was spending way too much time thinking about myself, instead of what I was supposed to be thinking about, my students and what I was teaching. It was time to simply acknowledge that I was lucky, to appreciate and make the best of my good luck, and get back to doing what good teachers do.
Hubris (the pride that comes before a fall) is only half the story of the "greatness" trap.
Greatness, like all stereotypes, labels, myths and identities, becomes the standard against which you are measured and measure yourself. If your preoccupation with greatness causes you to work extra hard, to take on extra responsibilities and go beyond what is expected of you and find extra satisfaction in your work, then it can be a good thing. However, if it becomes a distraction and source of stress, or traps you into something that doesn't support good teaching, then it isn't. You already know what I'm talking about here. How many times have you heard, in a sarcastic tone, something like: "Well, if you're a feminist then shouldn't you . . . . " Or, "'If you are an environmentalist then you should . . . ." Or, "If you are such a great teacher then you should . . . ."
You should stand up proudly for your beliefs, but recognize that any label can be turned into a trap, a means of manipulation.
You should stand up proudly for your beliefs, but recognize that any label can be turned into a trap, a means of manipulation.
Here’s a case in point I came across in National Affairs:
Wow, “common sense” and “decades of empirical research”! Talk about seductive! So, what’s the “great teacher” test? In fact, that’s the point of the article, the necessity of testing, evaluating and grading teachers. And who is going to decide who and what the great teachers are? Some administrator or pedagog who hasn’t been near a classroom in the last ten years no doubt.
To avoid the traps, stay focussed on what you know good teachers do.
To avoid the traps, stay focussed on what you know good teachers do.
Thursday 11 December 2014
How Much Do Good Teachers Matter?
Sometimes the question is more important than the answer. Periodically, in the midst of a teaching session, I would ask myself this question: How much does the quality of my teaching really matter in the overall education of my students?
Considering all the potential factors which could determine how well or much a student might learn, how big a difference could the time a student spent with me really make? Relative to everything else that might be going on in a student’s life imprinting itself on mind and body, if I imagined myself to be responsible for 2% of a student’s total learning in any given year, I would be claiming a lot.
If you believe in compound interest, 2% is a lot. A 2% increase in knowledge compounded annually, will produce a life-changing increase in knowledge of 65% over a 25-year period (according to my compound interest calculator). Put another way, at the risk of sounding biblical, good teachers plant seeds which they have sound reason to hope will grow over time and make a difference in the lives of those they’ve taught.
But the answer isn’t what is important about asking this question. The question is important in its own right, even without an answer, because it reminds teachers of the limitations of their short-term influence.
Why should teachers remind themselves of their limitations? For one thing, it’s a mental health issue. In my experience, wherever teachers gather the phrase “burn out” is used all too frequently and glibly, but teachers do need to pace themselves. There is no limit to how much work any individual might put into teaching. No matter how much or how well you might do, when it comes to teaching there is always room to say I could have done more or better.
And there are no limits to what we might imagine the effect of a teacher might be. Unfortunately, when we fail to achieve fantastic, imaginary goals, it is a typical human response to do less rather than as much as we are able. The Danes are repeatedly identified in global surveys (much to their own surprise) as the happiest in the world. The reason they score so well on happiness tests is their modest expectations. Maintaining low expectations shouldn’t be an objective, but teachers need to allow themselves to enjoy the satisfaction of their achievements--even if those achievements might not count as world-changing or award-winning in anyone’s books. Being able to say “that went pretty well” at the end of a class is a monumental moment in a teacher’s life, and the accumulation of those positive memories, the why and how and wherefore of them, is what makes good teachers good teachers.
There is another, and perhaps more important reason, that teachers need to question and recognize the limitations of their influence: it’s focus. Teachers need a version of The Serenity Prayer. You know, the one that alcoholics recite: “grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”
With teachers courage matters, but they also need determination, conviction, passion, optimism, idealism, skill, concentration and focus to do what they can do, taking care of the details, the immediate, the one-on-one, the minutia, being on time, well prepared, creative and caring, without being distracted and overwhelmed by what they can’t control or do anything about at the moment. I recently heard a Navy SEAL being interviewed (he was part of the team that assassinate Osama Bin Ladin). He described losing his courage, freezing up, unable to move while in the middle of a rock-climbing exercise. The instructor rappelled over to him and reminded him “your universe is three square feet.” The trick is to stay focussed on the three square feet that matter right now, finding the next crevice and toe hold, and avoiding the paralysis of thinking about all those things that could happen, that might go wrong, that you can’t do anything about. It is difficult to recognize and easy to forget how hard and how essential it is for teachers to stay focussed on what they want to achieve in the moment. How much you matter doesn't matter! What matters is what you are doing right now!
Wednesday 23 April 2014
How We Train University Students to Write Poorly (with Addendum)
When I was in the hunt for a tenure-track university position, I attended a mentoring session on how to publish led by Linda Hutcheon, who was, at that moment, the newly hottest thing in Canadian postmodernist theory and criticism. “Writing a thesis,” she told us, “was an exercise in covering your ass.” There was nothing shocking or striking in her declaration; it was a well-worn bromide, a truism. No-one in the audience blinked.
Now that you have your BS monitors turned on full, consider this passage from The Location of Culture in which Homi Bhabha defines his concept of “Third Space.” I should explain that this book was repeatedly presented to me in graduate theses I was examining or supervising—requiring me to read it cover to cover. Bhabha is a Harvard professor and his work is generally considered essential reading for students in the humanities and cultural studies. “Third Space” is the concept for which he is best known.
If you are a good-hearted, well intentioned person (which, by the way, most students are), you will attempt to understand, to make sense of, the passage. I don’t want to stop you from trying to understand what you are about to read, but my intention is to demonstrate in terms of a few simple rules of English composition why and how this passage verges on incomprehensibility (maybe not “verges,” just “is” incomprehensible).
As you can see Bhabha’s sentence either repeats information that is obvious, irrefutable because it is tautological, or he is saying something subtle that is simply wrong or at least unproved. In other words, either he is telling us that “a bachelor is a man who is not married” which we already knew, or he is telling us that “a bachelor is a left-handed man who is not married” which is wrong or at least unproved. Whichever the case, the obfuscation of the sentence seems undeniable.
Bhabha’s next sentence—“The pact of interpretation is never simply an act of communication between the I the You designated in the statement”—is also an obvious truth, but at the same time it is misleading or at least confusing because now we have to wonder if we are still talking about the difference between the subject of the enunciation and the subject of the proposition—the topic sentence of the paragraph.
In the next sentence Bhabha reveals his great concept, his claim to fame the “Third Space” (always in capitals to make the point of its grandeur no doubt): “The production of meaning requires that these two places be mobilized in the passage through a Third Space [. . . ]. “ Back to pronoun reference: if “these two places” refers back to “I” and “You,” then the “Third Space” seems so obvious that it hardly warrants a special name. Yes, there is always a space of mediation between two people communicating which affects the communication process. What does this have to do with the topic sentence of the paragraph, the difference between the subject of the enunciation and the subject of the proposition?
Then we have another series of four pronouns: “which,” “which,’ “it” and “itself.” Playing our substitution game we get:
Whatever we might think of this passage, it isn’t good exposition, and we should not be holding it up to university students as a model they should follow in their own writing.
I began my teaching career giving one-on-one instruction in administrative writing (among other things) to civil servants working for the Government of Canada. Those were the days when “writing style” meant being able to express yourself in clear, crisp and concise prose (without overdoing the alliteration). Around the same time, a journalist, with the Ottawa daily, The Citizen, wrote a regular column on effective writing. In one of his articles, he constructed the following fable to explain why and how government administrators deliberately wrote poorly:
One Friday morning, a middle manager discovered that the photocopy machine wasn’t working properly. He immediately sent off a memo (yes this was before email) to an underling, telling him to “render it inoperative.” On his way into the office on Monday morning, the boss saw the photocopier in the garbage and asked the middle manager “Why in hell are we throwing out the photocopy machine?” To which the middle manager replied, “I have no idea; I sent him (the fall guy) a memo on Friday telling him to unplug it.”
Middle managers write poorly, with purpose, using inflated language which might sound good to unwary ears, but leaving the message unclear, in order to escape responsibility for what they have written. They cover their asses. We unwittingly (or is it deliberate?) train university students to do the same.
The markers of defensive, cover-your-ass writing are pretty easy to spot: passive voice, inflated, ambiguous vocabulary, un-contextualized jargon, confusing metaphors, and vague pronoun references. Passive voice: that’s when, instead of saying “John threw the photocopier into the trash,” you say, “The photocopier was thrown into the trash.” With the passive voice you can avoid making anyone responsible for an action—at least until the boss comes nosing around. Inflated, ambiguous vocabulary and jargon need no explanation: “render it inoperative” mis-speaks for itself—and I’m sure you have lots of examples of your own.
Even though I spent a career in the metaphor business (a lit prof remember), I have come to detest how metaphors are used in daily life, not to clarify a point but to escape clarification. This morning I heard VP Joe Biden (I like Joe) telling the people of the Ukraine “you have a tough road ahead, but the USA is going to walk that road with you.” Metaphors are what politicians use to sound reassuring while promising absolutely nothing.
I still remember when a university administrator accused our research project's computer technician of “making spaghetti” and later when discussing database management that we “didn’t want to put a Volkswagen engine in a Cadillac.” I suddenly understood how an administrator could spend four hours in a meeting without ever saying anything useful . . . by speaking metaphorically.
Vague pronouns are probably the most common and seemingly innocuous way that writers can lead you in dizzying circles and avoid saying anything that can be grasped. A pronoun is by definition a word which stands in for a noun. A pronoun is doing it’s job if (with occasional exceptions called “empty pronouns”) we can clearly and easily identify the noun which the pronoun is standing in for. Example: “Mary stood waiting in the rain without an umbrella crying for half an hour, and she said it was my fault.” What noun should replace the pronoun “it” in this sentence? See the problem?
Of the many ways we train students to write poorly (for example, by refusing to address the issue, endlessly passing the buck on to a fictional someone else who will magically solve the problem), the way we most actively encourage students to write unreadable prose is to present them with examples of bad writing suggesting that they are evidence of genius and, implicitly, the models students should be following.
I still remember when a university administrator accused our research project's computer technician of “making spaghetti” and later when discussing database management that we “didn’t want to put a Volkswagen engine in a Cadillac.” I suddenly understood how an administrator could spend four hours in a meeting without ever saying anything useful . . . by speaking metaphorically.
The linguistic difference that informs any cultural performance is dramatized in the common semiotic account of the disjuncture between the subject of a proposition (énoncé) and the subject of enunciation, which is not represented in the statement but which is the acknowledgement of its discursive embeddedness and address, its cultural positionality, its reference to a present time and a specific space. The pact of interpretation is never simply an act of communication between the I the You designated in the statement. The production of meaning requires that these two places be mobilized in the passage through a Third Space, which represents both the general conditions of language and the specific implication of the utterance in a performative and institutional strategy of which it cannot ‘in itself’ be conscious. (54)
Did you give up after the first sentence because of the vocabulary? No doubt if you admitted to some cultural-studies scholar that you didn’t understand this passage, he would tell you that you need to understand that “linguistic difference” is a reference to Saussure and Derrida, “cultural performance” alludes to the work of Judith Butler, “semiotic account” comes from Saussure and the subject of the enunciation versus the subject of the proposition refers to basic linguistics but Anglo-Americans associate this distinction with Lacan. The word “disjunction” is one that Sokal (see my previous post) would draw our attention to because it has a very specific meaning in logic, mathematics and biology. In common language is just means a disconnection or separation. We have no way of knowing if Bhabha is using this word in the common everyday sense or in a more specific scientific sense. What we can attest is that he is laying on the jargon as thickly as possible, with little or no indication that it is clarifying what he wants to say.
However, what I want to draw your attention to is the word “which” in the first sentence. “Which” is a relative pronoun. According to the basic rules of composition, a relative pronoun, all things being equal, should refer to the closest noun or noun phrase, its antecedent. The first word “which” in Bhabha’s sentence is preceded by six different noun phrases. If Bhabha isn’t following basic rules of composition, then the second half of his sentence can have six completely different meanings, and it would be impossible to know which of the six he is intending. Therefore we must credit Bhabha with following this basic rule and we can substitute “the subject of the enunciation” for “which” and we get: “the subject of the enunciation [ . . .] is not represented in the statement.” If you happen to know what “the subject of the enunciation” means (roughly, the person speaking) you will understand this statement because it is an analytic truth. "Subject of the enunciation" means the subject not in the statement. Bhabha's sentence is the equivalent of you saying “My friend John is a bachelor, who is not married.” Thus far Bhabha isn’t telling us anything; he is simply expressing a redundancy, repeating what anyone who knows the expression “subject of enunciation” would already know.
Are you still with me? Did you notice that in the first sentence there are five pronouns? “Which,” “which,” “its,” “its” and “its.” The way these pronouns are lined up they all refer back to the same noun phrase: “the subject of the enunciation.” If we plug in the noun phrase for each of the pronouns we can see what Bhabha is saying in simple syntax.- “the subject of the enunciation is not represented in the statement.” This is the analytic truth (redundancy) I have just point out.
- “the subject of the enunciation is the acknowledgement of . . .” My first reaction is that this is a nonsense statement, but it is a fragment so let us complete the phrase.
- “the subject of the enunciation is the acknowledgement of the subject of the enunciation’s discursive embeddedness and address.” Yes, the big words seem deliberately confusing, but you can clarify the kind of thing this statement is saying by substituting simple nouns. You would get something like this: “The tree is the acknowledgement of the tree’s being in the forest.” Here we have a statement that is inflated and awkward but at the same same time ludicrously obvious. Yes, a tree being in the forest means that there is a tree in the forest. Yippee!
- the phrases which follow in the rest of the sentence simply repeat these ludicrous redundancies: “the subject of the enunciation is the acknowledgement of the subject of the enunciation’s cultural positionality.” Or, the tree is an acknowledgement that the tree occupies a position in the forest.
- “the subject of the enunciation is the acknowledgement of the subject of the enunciation’s reference to a present time and a specific space.” Yes, the tree, by existing, tells us that the tree exists in a specific time and place.
As you can see Bhabha’s sentence either repeats information that is obvious, irrefutable because it is tautological, or he is saying something subtle that is simply wrong or at least unproved. In other words, either he is telling us that “a bachelor is a man who is not married” which we already knew, or he is telling us that “a bachelor is a left-handed man who is not married” which is wrong or at least unproved. Whichever the case, the obfuscation of the sentence seems undeniable.
- “a Third Space [. . .] represents both the general conditions of language and the specific implication of the utterance in a performative and institutional strategy”
- “of which it cannot ‘in itself’ be conscious” gives us something like: a Third Space cannot, in itself, be conscious of the general conditions of language [ . . .]
Addendum
I admire the cartoonist's ability to make the point in a brief and entertaining fashion.
Saturday 19 April 2014
The Postmodern Hoax
Beyond the Hoax
Reading Alan Sokal’s Beyond the Hoax brought back the question that haunted my university teaching career: How much of postmodernism was intellectual fraud?
"Transgressing Boundaries" and Social Text
Sokal is the physicist who submitted a deliberately bogus article entitled “Transgressing the Boundaries: Towards a Transformative Hermeneutics of Quantum Gravity” to the cultural studies journal Social Text.
Post-structuralism as Mummery
After it was accepted and published (Spring/Summer 1996), Sokal announced that the article was nonsense, a parody of postmodernist half-baked arguments and verbiage. Sokal and the Belgian physicist/philosopher, Jean Bricmont, subsequently published Impostures Intellectuelles (1997) in which they systematically unmasked the mummery of leading lights of post-structuralist theory such as Jacques Lacan and Julia Kristeva.
Jacques Lacan as Charlatan
The most compelling essay I have read on Lacan is Dylan Evans’ “From Lacan to Darwin.” Evans spent at least a decade studying Lacan, first in the context of psychoanalysis as a dedicated Lacanian disciple in Buenos Aires, then in Comparative Literature at UNY Buffalo, and finally in London as a psychologist and adherent of “evolutionary psychology.” Evans confesses:Lacanian Psychoanalysis
Paradoxically, Evans offers the closest thing to a justification for Lacanian psychoanalysis (and the whole of Lacan’s work for that matter) I’ve ever read. The process is one in which the analyst is a fraud, and when the patient finally discovers that his psychoanalyst is a huckster then he is cured. (Consider the possibility that the whole of postmodernism/post-structuralism was a hoax, and we are now cured because we can say so.) Evans concludes by questioning the legitimacy of the process, but his preamble shows a degree of coherence that is rare in discussions of Lacan:Fashionable Nonsense
How is it possible that this “fashionable nonsense” (to quote the American title of the Bricmont & Sokal book) became so widespread and firmly, even dogmatically accepted in the arts and humanities programs of Anglo-American universities? The answer is fairly obvious and often repeated with allusion to the fable of “the Emperor’s new clothes.” What I can add, perhaps, is some of the detail of how university professors and students aspiring to become university professors were compelled to show an understanding of; that is, to pretend to understand, the nonsense underpinning post-structuralist theory.How Scholarship Becomes Dogma
The same requirement that we put on students writing theses applies to professors submitting their work for peer review: “show that you have done the reading.” “The reading” in the postmodern period is, of course, the post-structuralist theorists: Lacan, Kristeva, Derrida, Foucault, etc, and to make matters worse, everyone who makes use of this Tel Quel cabal, which turns out to be just about everyone who is getting published. For professors, the cliché is still fully functional: it’s publish or perish. If you want to get published, which is what you do to get tenure and promotion, not to mention funding so you can go to conferences at juicy locations like Hawaii and Paris, then you better know your post-structuralist theorists, or at least be ready to pretend you do.The Trickle-Down Effect on Pedagogy
The idea that a couple of hundred specialists might gather at a conference to spout this turgid, empty language at one another, playing verbal puzzle games, didn’t really disturb me all that much. Though it did seem a terrible waste of time and brainpower. What did disturb me was to see students chastised for failing to “theorize” and “problematize” as if these terms signaled an accomplishment. It disturbed me to see students struggling to understand theories which didn’t hold water and being forced, like their professors, to pretend they made sense and were being grasped; or, worse still, simply being turned off the study of literature and culture because it had been transformed into the study of obtuse theories.Negotiating Postmodern Dogma
Then, of course, there was my dilemma of how to negotiate the hypocrisy: teaching theories I really didn’t find credible. In my research and publications, I think I did alright: showing that I had read the post-structuralists while signaling that I wasn’t really buying the theories they were selling (citing Sokal and Bricmont for example). Teaching undergraduates, I could cherry-pick concepts and vocabulary, acknowledging their soi-disant origins, but spinning them, à la Rumpelstiltskin, into something that made sense; that is, that made sense to me, and could be transformed into something that made sense and was even useful for students. I could explain deconstruction, as Ellis does in Against Deconstruction, in terms of the many challenges to essentialism (the idea that words get their meanings from one-to-one correspondence with the “essences” of objects in the world). While acknowledging that the un-readable Kristeva did the earliest work on the important and useful concept of intertextuality, I could quickly turn to Graham Allen’s accessible description of the idea (in Intertextuality) that “meaning [. . . .] exists between a text and the other texts to which it refers and relates” rather than within an independent text. The ubiquitous concept of “the subject” as an unstable site of consciousness, so typically associated with Lacanian psychoanalysis, is what the philosophy of mind is all about and could be explained in that context.The Imposition of Postmodern Dogma on Students
Dealing with graduate students and graduate theses was more problematic. It was disheartening to see students being led down a garden path, into dead ends, on wild goose chases--all the clichés applied. I tried to be frank, but I also recognized that if students wanted to get on in the academic world, they could not afford to be dismissive of post-structuralism. Even if you knew the emperor wore no clothes, there was no advantage and significant risk in saying so.
Postmodernism Versus Enlightenment
Perhaps the most important part of Beyond the Hoax is its preface. There Sokal concludes, from the surprising attention which the hoax received (though I always felt it didn’t receive enough), that “a not insignificant cohort of adults recall having endured, as undergraduates, an English, cultural studies or women’s studies course overly filled with Lacanian or deconstructionist verbiage, and who may have doubted their own intellectual competence as a result.” On a broader, political level, Sokal quotes Noam Chomsky’s complaint that postmodernist intellectuals, while claiming a leftist agenda, have actually deprived working people of the tools of emancipation by claiming “that the ‘project of the Enlightenment is dead,’ that we must abandon the ‘illusions’ of science and rationality -- a message that will gladden the hearts of the powerful, delighted to monopolize these instruments for their own use.” To substantiate Chomsky’s point, consider the fact that we have been told ad infinitum by postmodernists that “common sense” and “binary thinking” (the only kind of thinking that the human brain is capable of) are evidence of right-wing, conservative ideology.Postmodernist Abuse of Language
What I have most appreciated of Sokal’s work (though odd since he is a physicist) is his critique of postmodernist abuses of language. What Sokal observes most often relates to how postmodern academics use terms from science which also exist in common language but without ever clarifying the sense in which the words are being used. Instruction number one which I would typically give to graduate students approaching a thesis was “define your terms,” but it was a tough sell considering the postmodern scholars they were reading rarely, if ever, did so. The postmodernists’ solution to the ambiguity, obfuscation and incoherence in their own writing was to celebrate ambiguity, polysemy and indeterminacy as if they were positive features in expository writing.
Science and Scepticism
The Sokal hoax provided a healthy revelation of what we were allowing to happen inside academia, but I’m less sure that the revelation has made its way into university classrooms. As much as I admire what Sokal has accomplished, as he clarified his objectives in perpetrating the hoax and clarified the terms of the debate between postmodernist constructionist and empirical scientists, I found myself sliding back to where I had come from among the phenomenologists and skeptics. The question, which is as old as philosophy itself, boils down to: “Is there an objective reality, uncontaminated by our perceptions and intentions, that we can have access to?” Science must answer yes because the study of that reality is its defining objective. Cultural-studies academics like me, unimpressed as I am with post-structuralism, are destined by discipline, like the ancient Greek philosophers of the 4th and 3rd centuries BCE, to remain skeptical.
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